


My Sugar Daddy Can't Be a Mobster!

by sometimesimeow



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Aged-Up Yuri Plisetsky, Alternate Universe - Sugar Daddy, Barebacking, Bondage, Bottom Otabek Altin, Celestino is not a coach, Chubby Katsuki Yuuri, Chubby Yuuri is the best Yuuri, Daddy Kink, Dark Victor Nikiforov, Dirty Talk, Drug Use, Dubious Consent, Emotional Manipulation, Exhibitionism, Extremely Dubious Consent, Humiliation, Lots of Yandere characters, Mafia Victor Nikiforov, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Phichit is a Pimp, Rimming, Rough Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Sex Toys, Slut Shaming, Somnophilia, Stealthing, Violence, Yandere Victor Nikiforov, sugar baby yuuri
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-12
Updated: 2018-08-15
Packaged: 2018-10-02 23:19:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 12
Words: 64,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10230179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sometimesimeow/pseuds/sometimesimeow
Summary: Student-athlete Yuuri Katsuki is struggling to balance his training, schoolwork, and expenses. When his roommate introduces him to the lucrative prospect of being a sugar baby, he meets Viktor Nikiforov, an enigmatic man whose pockets run deeper than the Mariana Trench. Viktor wants Yuri at any cost and Yuri is smitten enough to ignore the fact that there is indeed, a gun in Viktor’s pants.In the process of keeping Yuuri safe, his friends don’t notice their own benefactors’ oddities.  For instance, Otabek has just signed his first exclusive contract to a teenager with an anger management problem and three body guards. Chris’s lawyer ‘daddy’ spends half his time spoiling Chris and the other half cheating the legal system. JJ’s sugar mama is as supportive as she is psychotic. Guang Hong’s boyfriend’s studio may be a front for illegal weapons trade. And Phichit?Well, Phichit may be their pimp.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Things I want to read about in the Yuri!!! On Ice Fandom: sugar daddy! Viktor, dark! Viktor, Chubby Yuri. Things I have time for: nothing. Here you go.

Located in Saga Prefecture of Kyushu, Japan, Hasetsu was a small, isolated town once known for their soothing hot springs and heartfelt appreciation of winter sports. The houses were old; almost all were owned by families who have resided in the town as far back as the Muromachi Period. People born in Hasetsu were expected to stay there their whole lives.

Yuuri Katsuki accepted the fact with mild reluctance and subsequent resignation. He loved his home; he loved his family. Yet, there was a part of him that longed to see the world outside his home. With the encouragement of his ballet instructor and the support of his older sister, he applied for a university in Detroit that offered a substantial scholarship for figure skating—his pride and passion. He told his friends and family that he did not expect to win.

His sister dismissed him. ‘Who enters a competition to lose?” She asked.

A few months later, he received his acceptance letter and a confirmation of his scholarship. Before he could ponder his choice of study, his living expenses, or his schedule, his sister, strong and stubborn Mari, accepted the offer for him.

“You need to see the world, Yuuri.” she told him. “You deserve it.”

For a while, Yuuri believed he did. The whole situation went by quickly; he remembered being overwhelmed, close enough to an anxiety attack but he was too slow too catch up. One minute, he was helping out at his friends’ skating rink and the next, he was on a plane to Detroit, Michigan. Minako processed his paperwork for a Visa and his mother developed a budget for his four-year stay. He was not even able to read his requirements until he got on the plane! Once given the opportunity, he almost reached out for his Minako's hands—the woman was there to accompany his settlement. He was grateful for her presence, given how eager he was to give himself a good cry.

There were plenty of rules and regulations regarding his schooling. The scholarship covered his tuition and provided a stipend for living expenses during the skating season. He would be going on a “F1” visa, which required him to take the minimum course load for full-time students. He was not allowed to work more than 20 hours per week and for his first year, anything but an off-campus job was forbidden. As a student-athlete, the hours he could work was even more limited.

For the first year, Yuuri was able to get a satisfactory job as a translator for his university’s Asian Studies department. Things were fine until his skating season came along. Professional practices were longer than he was used to, his work was riddled with mistakes and he had to work unpaid overtime to redo them. His studiers were another matter—every red mark was a reminder of how dependent his Visa was on his grades. When his best friend, Phichit, caught him in the bathroom, balling his eyes out from stress and sleep deprivation, his friend made him quit his job.

Yuri sobbed his protests. “I can’t…the stipend…it’s not enough. I have to work,” he told Phichit, his nose was running and his eyes were red. “If I don’t, I have to ask my parents and I can’t do that to them! They work so hard to get me here! Phichit, you don’t understand!” He babbled endlessly. He went on and on, quoting his failures and talking about his selfishness as a son. He wanted to travel so badly that he was draining his parents dry “I’m such a good for nothing, Phichit. All I ever do is disappoint them…” He cried against Phichit’s chest. The Thai boy stayed by his side the entire time.

When he was done, Phichit let him lean on his shoulder and called a cab to take them to his home. The sight of Phichit’s grand townhouse was almost enough to distract Yuuri from his depression. It was beautiful! He thought in awe. He could not believe such luxury existed, especially for a college student. While Yuuri was busy observing the marble floors and the fine leather couch, Phichit went to the kitchen to make some tea and biscuits.

“Here, I thought you might be hungry.”

He assumed correctly. Yuuri devoured the plate before cringing at his own piggishness. He was about to apologize to Phichit when the boy laughed.

“They’re good, aren’t they? My daddy got them from France on his last business trip. I’ll get you another plate. In the meantime, there’s a menu on the table. Let’s order some food!”

Yuuri could not hide his relief. He slowed down on his snacking but with the amount of food Phichit was pushing down his throat, he knew that was unnecessary. The two of them ordered Indian. Yuuri was somewhat taken back by the way Phichit rattled on the dishes name without care. When the food arrived, Yuuri almost fainted from the gourmet fumes and the rich aroma of spices. There was so much food; he had to eat to his heart's content. When Yuuri was sated from chicken marsala and naan, he asked about Phichit’s living situation.

“So your father pays for this?” Yuuri asked once he recovered from his embarrassment. He could not even offer to pay for his share of the meal.

Phichit giggled. “No, not my father. My daddy,” he clarified. “He owns the apartment but lives in Dubai. He bought the place during the financial crisis so instead of letting it collect dust, I get to stay here, rent-free.”

Yuuri tilted his head. “Oh…so a ‘daddy’ is like a sponsor?” It was not unheard of for international students to have one. Sponsors were normally companies or individuals who funded students with mild conditions. Sometimes, the students had to work for them after graduation or for student athletes, they financed the beginning of their career for future sponsorship. Out of all the people Yuuri knew, Phichit was definitely the cutest and most personable—with Yuuri’s awkwardness, there was no chance of him getting outside help.

Phichit could not contain his laughter this time. His full-blown amusement lit up the room. Yuuri’s face burned with embarrassment. When Phichit was done, there were tears in his eyes. “Oh…you’re so innocent, Yuuri. Don’t ever change.”

Yuuri pouted. He wondered what was wrong with his assumption. Wasn’t a sponsor exactly what Phichit described?

When they were done, Yuuri offered to take out the trash and do the dishes. It was the least he could do after receiving Phichit’s generosity. When he came back, Phichit was on the couching, scrolling through his Netflix. He was covered by a giant, furry throw and holding a hamster plushy. “What do you feel like watching? I was thinking ‘The King and the Skater.’”

“You always want to watch that.” Despite his complaints, Yuuri was smiling. He joined Phichit underneath the blanket.

“It’s a classic,” Phichit pointed out. He leaned on Yuuri’s shoulder. “You know…I have a guest room. You can stay overnight.”

Yuuri snuggled against Phichit’s warmth. “I don’t want to impose…”

“Not imposing, this house is too big for just me.” Phichit pointed out. “And it gets lonely here by myself.” The movie started. During the beginning credits, Yuuri stifled a yawn. Anxiety attacks tend to wear him out.

“You should get a roommate,” Yuuri suggested.

“Yeah, but what would I charge? It doesn’t seem right making them pay when I don’t.” Phichit hummed. “You know; I’d really appreciate it if you stayed for a while longer. Being alone here gives me the creeps.”

Yuuri was not an idiot; he was aware that Phichit was manipulating him; to not pay rent and live like freeloader. He was too sweet, thought Yuuri. The Japanese boy wondered what he had done to deserve such an amazing friend. His pride told him not to fall for it; his mind, tempted by the warmth of a working heater and the fulfillment of delicious food was saying this was his chance of lifetime.

Against his wounded pride, he told Phichit ‘okay’ and promised not to stay long. Maybe a month or two to save himself some rent.

***

Skating season finished three months ago and Yuuri was now a semi-permanent resident at the golden villa in which Phichit resided. While his love for his friend grew, so did his aggravation. At the moment, Phichit was in his pajama bottoms, checking out his Instagram while outside, a fist pounded on his door, begging to be let in. Security was paid off by the man to ignore the noise and the neighbors remained inconspicuous.

“Get out here, Phichit! I promise I'm not angry! I just want to talk to you!”

Yuuri trembled in fear. He turned to his friend who barely seemed to notice the noise.

“Phichit…don’t you think you should answer him? Or…I don’t know, call the cops?”

“Phichit, I know you’re in there! You can’t keep ignoring me!”

Phichit sighed. He dropped his phone on the couch. “Jeez, I told him I was not feeling it tonight and wanted to reschedule. I hate it when they get possessive.” The grin on his face said otherwise; Phichit loved the drama.

“Uh…do you want me to talk to him?” Yuuri winced at the offer. He hated dealing with strangers; especially loud, aggressive men big enough to snap him in half. But for Phichit, he would bite the bullet.

Phichit grinned beautifully. “Nah, it’s good. The guy is just jealous. He thinks I’m in here fucking another man. If he sees you, he might actually go mental.”

Yuuri jumped. “Phichit! We need to call the police!”

Phichit waved his concerns off. “He’ll cool off, Yuuri. Trust me, I know what I'm doing. Besides, if he didn’t like the game, he wouldn’t be playing.”

“Phichit, he might actually break down the door!”

Yuuri was a flustered, jittery mess at this point. Each sound was accompanied by a twitch or a jump. Phichit sighed contently. Yuuri was at his cutest when he was near tears. Fortunately for Yuuri, Phichit wasn’t a complete sadist; at this rate, the older boy was going to have a panic attack.

“Alright, Yuuri. Because you’re being so adorable, I’ll talk to him.”

Phichit got up and sauntered over to the door. Yuuri was filled with more worries when he saw that Phichit was still shirtless and unprotected. “Wait, shouldn’t you have a baseball bat or a skate or something—”

Phichit pretended to not hear him. He skipped to the door without a care in the world, surrounded by self-made sparkles and innate lovability. The man’s aggression faded as soon as he caught sight of the Southeast beauty. His eyes were filled with hearts. Lacking any sense of self-control, the man pulled Phichit into a tight embrace. He relished in the skinship. Phichit was so small. He smelled like heaven. “Phichit!”

“Ciao Ciao, what have I said about coming to my home unsolicited? You’re being very inconsiderate. And scary.” Phichit pouted. “I don’t like it when you’re scary.”

Dismay enraptured Celestino’s features. Yuuri, who was watching from his hidden spot behind the wall, was startled by the abrupt change. The man went from a fearsome beast to an apologetic teddy in seconds.

“Uh, I’m sorry but you cancelled on me. Today is my day. I thought—”

“That I was entertaining another man?” Phichit played the indignant lover well. Just moments before, he was Yuuri’s amused roommate who savored jealousy like a five-course meal by the gods. “How cheap do you think I am? I cancelled on us because I was tired and school was so hard today.” He turned away. Yuuri could tell Phichit was gathering his composure. His best friend was seconds away from laughing in Celestino’s face. He returned to the act with a frown accompanying his features. “I take my commitments seriously. I choose my daddies seriously. If you think I’m some street hooker waiting for the next best thing, then perhaps I should reconsider renewing our contract—”

“No!” Celestino protested. “I’m sorry, Phichit. I just—you drive me crazy. You’re so gorgeous and fun and being with you is perfection.”

“Yeah, but that’s why I’m so selective,” Phichit reminded him. He played with the buttons on the Italian’s shirt. “I know what I am worth and I only choose the best to be inside me.” He grinded his hips against Celestino’s hard body. Phichit trilled when he felt the hardness against his thigh. As a former athlete, Celestino worked out constantly. He was in his late forties but had the body of a robust thirty-year-old man. Phichit loved his size. “It’s not just money with me,” Phichit told him. “My daddies are special to me.” Truth be told, he was not lying. Phichit had enough offers that he could be selective. He came a long way from the escort who used to charge a $250 dollars an hour. Beyond the temptation of money, he can find men who were handsome and hung.

The words had a profound effect on Celestino. The older man captured Phichit’s lips in a kiss. Phichit shrieked when Celestino lifted him up and wrapped his legs around his waist. The ex-skater assaulted his torso with love bites, nipped and nibbled on his nipples. Phichit moaned and gasped and played the part of the wanton whore better than any porn star—hell, he was in league with an Oscar winner.

“I’ll make it up to you,” Celestino promised. “Anything, I’ll take you on a trip for fall break. Anywhere you like, I don’t care. I’ll book the nicest room and buy you whatever you like.”

Phichit moaned at the thought of an all-expense paid vacation. He bit into Celestino’s shoulder instead of answering him. He didn’t want Celestino to think he was forgiven so easily. The man needed to work even harder for that accomplishment.

When they got to a bed, Phichit was unceremoniously dropped onto the sheets. Normally, Phichit preferred the princess treatment. He loved having his body worshipped: he worked like a dog protecting his product. His caramel-chocolate skin was creamy and clear and his hole—his pink, puckering hole—was tight without the threat of carpet burn.

Tonight, Celestino was not going to be gentle. The man came to him enraged—no amount of sweet talking was going to defeat the visceral anger in the man’s body. Phichit gasped when Celestino dug his teeth into his collarbone. The Thai boy sunk his fingers into Celestino’s hair for a better grip. His ponytail came undone. God, it made him look sexier—like an actual lion.

“Daddy…” Phichit moaned. He lifted up his hips to remind Celestino of what he came for. “Daddy, please. I can’t wait. I want you.”

Celestino did not have to be asked twice. He took out his raging hard cock and teased Phichit’s hole with his tip. The bulbous head looked obscene pressed against the winking hole. He knew better than to shove his manhood into his little boy-whore, no matter how wet and prepared the boy always seemed to be—.

“Daddy!” Phichit begged. “Daddy, hurry up. I’m already wet for you. Please, I want to be filled up with daddy’s cum!”

Celestino saw red. He thrusted his fingers deep into Phichit’s ass and admired the pure slick dripping from his boy's cunt. His mind was too heated to recognize the impossibility of the biology. He could not see the truth—that Phichit prepared himself every afternoon. The Thai boy never knew when he needed to thank his daddies for a present or surprise. A good sugar baby knew that rewards needed to be issued immediately or else they lose their meaning.

Celestino groaned, still enraptured with the thought of Phichit being made more wanton because of him “Fuck, Phichit. You always know how to make daddy feel so good. You shove your hungry hole in daddy’s face and make daddy go crazy. I can’t help myself, you know that? Your daddy can’t think straight when he sees how slutty your hole is.”

Phichit spread his legs wider. The move was too much for Celestino. The fat head of his cock appreciated the extra room and dug into Phichit’s body like a drill.

Moans dragged itself out of Phichit’s body with each inch inside him. When Celestino was fully lodged inside Phichit, the veins of his massive cock rubbing against Phichit’s insides, he stopped bothering to be nice. He gripped on Phichit’s hips and started to fuck him at a rougher, harder pace that pounded him into the bed.

“Oh! Oh! Seet!” Before long, Phichit forgot about the ache of being penetrated. He rather enjoyed the sensation of having a large cock stretching him out. His ass was already adapting to Celestino’s size and he was loving it.

“You like that baby? Like daddy’s fat dick inside you?” Celestino’s voice was so rough. Phichit focused on the pleasure of being filled. “Yeah, you love it when daddy goes all out on your ass. Good thing I love how your hole feels around me, baby.”

Phichit decided to limit his expressions of pleasure to whimpers and moans. Celestino loved listening to Phichit and his pride exploded when he thought Phichit lost the ability to speak.

Celestino finished up a thrust so deep, Phichit swore the man’s giant’s balls were lodged inside him. Phichit sighed when he felt his innards being drowned by Celestino’s cum. He loved this part the most. There was nothing better than having his hole used as a cum bucket. It was the main reason Phichit stopped whoring himself out to random strangers and focused on taking care of his daddies instead.

Daddies got to fuck their babies raw.

***

While watching the entire fight, Yuuri was frozen solid. His mind was blown away; his soul left his body. He was helpless and in shock. The two men did not notice his presence, even when Celestino marched past him to the bedroom. Yuuri supposed he should be grateful for small mercies. The Japanese boy walked to the couch and stared at the blank TV. He could hear the door slam. The thud on the bed was audible. “Oh! Ciao Ciao!” Phichit moaned through the walls.

Yuuri wondered if he could look at his friend the same way again. He was not a prude—he did suspect that there was something amidst about Phichit’s sponsors. For one thing, Phichit never fell short on money despite never working a day in his life and all his finances were in cash. If that wasn’t suspicious enough, Phichit almost never met them in his own home—always hotels or personal apartments. Celestino coming here was a rare occurrence and one that he achieved through underhanded means. The ex-skater was a former a former rink mate of their coach.

Yuuri needed to catch his breath. His mind was working itself in a frenzy. He could not believe Phichit, his best friend, was a prostitute. While he tried to wrap his mind around the newfound information, Phichit’s shriek broke through the wall.

“Oh! Oh! Seet!” He heard Phichit screaming out. Yuuri buried his head into his hands. His face was bleeding red from embarrassment. He wondered if he should leave. Another shriek echoed in the house. Yuuri stood up at once. Once Phichit was done, he would be hungry. He might even want Thai food—they were out of ingredients for Phichit’s favorite dishes. He should go to the grocery store, Yuuri concluded. He should get something ready for his best friend who had supported him through the worse moments of his life and was currently getting fucked by a man old enough to be his father. Yuuri was going to be the best friend in the world for the best friend ever. He made this decision as he ran to the grocery store like a coward.

***

Yuuri was halfway finished with the phat si-io when Celestino came out of the bedroom. He entered the kitchen for a glass of water. The man was shirtless and wore unzipped jeans. Despite Yuuri’s determination not to stare, he was given no choice when the man apologized for his earlier behavior.

“Sorry about that. I must have scared the shit out of you. Phichit said you were worried sick.”

Yuuri flushed, trying to look away from the man’s limp cock and pulsing abs. Though Celestino was a client, Yuuri could tell that Phichit had no hardship sleeping with this man. Wasn’t it Confucius who said ‘Choose a job you love, and you will never have to work a day in your life?’

“It’s alright,” Yuuri mumbled. He looked down and was about to ask if Celestino was staying for dinner when Phichit interrupted. He wrapped his arms around Celestino’s waist from behind. “Hey, don’t scare Yuuri. He’s my best friend so you can’t be mean to him, okay?”

Celestino turned around and pecked Phichit on the lips. “I was just saying sorry to him.”

Phichit pouted. Yuuri nearly had a heart attack when Phichit grabbed Celestino’s cock and tucked it into his pants. The younger body leaned into the man’s ear and told him not to show off.

“I might get jealous,” Phichit teased. “Yuuri’s so cute you might like him more than me.”

“Never,” Celestino assured. He poured kisses on top of Phichit’s face that eventually landed on his mouth. The boy sparkled from the attention. He stuck out his tongue for Celestino to molest. Phichit was shameless with his moans. He let Celestino grab his ass and finger his hole underneath his night shirt. Yuuri felt worse than before. At least when they were having sex, he was able to walk away. Now, Yuuri was reduced to being a voyeur!

Though the tryst was hardly enough for Celestino, Phichit promised to dedicate his entire fall break to him. Yuuri watched with horrified fascination as Phichit seamlessly negotiated an extra two thousand dollars to his monthly allowance in exchange for three extra dates a month and a total upgrade to all his skating equipment. Celestino paid the expense no mind; he simply laughed and gave Phichit a longing kiss goodbye.

When the man left, Phichit inhaled the air. His eyes widened. “Do I smell phat si-io? And chicken satay? Yuuri, you are an angel!”

***

Phichit was adorable when he ate. He stuffed his cheeks with food like the hamsters he adored and instead of making him look gross, he exemplified innocence and charm. Yuuri was jealous. Phichit never seemed to gain weight no matter how much he ate. Meanwhile, Yuuri was packing on the pounds since he was off season. He still exercised for his health, but his training wasn’t nearly as intense. There was more flesh on his body than muscle.

Phichit was chewing on his meat when apprehension returned to Yuuri’s chest. “Um…is it okay for you to bring clients here—not that I’m judging you or anything! Just that, well, your apartment is a gift from a client, right? Will he be okay knowing you’re using it for…work?”

Yuuri wondered if it was too late to throw himself under a Zamboni.

Phichit does not hold back his laughter. “It’s fine, Yuuri. What he doesn’t know can’t hurt him.” He drank some water. “And they’re not clients, they’re daddies. I’m not a prostitute, Yuuri.”

Yuuri stared at him incredulously. “Phichit, you just had sex with a guy for money.”

“No, I spent time with a guy for money.”

“Time you spent…having sex.”

Phichit shrugged. “Sometimes, we just cuddle.”

“Phichit,” Yuuri stressed. “That was not cuddling.”

Yuuri was grateful for Phichit’s lighthearted personality. He never took offence to anything. The Thai explained the situation.

“Celestino is my daddy. You know, a sugar daddy? Every month he gives me an allowance in return for my company. I get gifts and free trips across the globe—I’m basically a drama-free boyfriend.”

Yuuri wanted to object; what happened tonight contained plenty of drama. Phichit read his mind and clarified. “Yeah, but that’s business drama, not relationship drama. I don’t bother him for not being attentive enough to my needs, I don’t demand his respect or love or devotion. I show him a good time and treat him like the king he is. In return, he pampers me the way I deserve.” Phichit finished the last of his satay. He hummed pleasantly. Despite not having a drop of Thai blood in his body, Yuuri made the best sauce. “A prostitute makes a transaction. A sugar baby enters a relationship.”

Yuuri was speechless. He looked down and pushed around a stray noodle. “You must…really like your job.”

Phichit grinned. “It’s great! I have three daddies and they pay me at the beginning of the month. I never have to worry about making ends meet and sometimes, they’re so busy, I almost never see them. Free money! Plus, the contract is for my time, not my body. If I get caught, I only have to worry about my Visa getting revoked.”

“That’s still a pretty big risk,” Yuuri pointed out; he was horrified at the thought of losing his best friend.

“Not as big as jail time,” Phichit countered. “Besides, lots of students in our position do it.” Suddenly, a brilliant idea popped into Phichit’s head. Excitement coursed through his body. He jumped up and grabbed Yuuri’s hands. Yuuri yelped.

“You should try it out!” Phichit declared.

Yuuri was taken back. “What?”

“You should become a sugar baby! I can definitely hook you up with a great guy! Virgins always get the best allowances and if your first daddy ends up being loaded, you’ll be set for life.”

Yuuri wondered if he should paint his face red to spare his body the trouble. “Are you crazy? I can’t—I mean—I’m not you, Phichit—not that I’m saying you’re a bad person but—I—I’m not charming like you and you’re so pretty and skinny and—!”

“No, no! You’re perfect!” Phichit disagreed. “You’re sweet and beautiful and you’re one of the nicest people in the world. You have a great ass—” Yuuri loudly protested at the thought. “And some daddies love chubby babies. I actually have a list of daddies asking me if I have anyone for them to spoil with your description.”

Yuuri gaped. The hairs on the back of his neck rose. There was something very suspicious about Phichit’s commentary. “Phichit…why would they ask you?”

Yuuri forgot one thing about his dearest friend.

Phichit had no shame.

“Oh, I’ve been doing this for a while and a lot of my old clients,” From when Phichit was a prostitute but he does not dare say it out—Yuuri was a mess already. “Have friends and those friends have friends and those friends have tastes that match my friends. You know how I love to make friends.”

Yuuri nodded. Phichit was a social creature by nature. He was a master at connecting with people online and in person and was the face of the school’s international student program. “I wasn’t kidding when I said a lot of students do this. Guang Hong, JJ, Otabek…”

“Otabek?” Yuuri shouted. His mouth dropped to the floor. JJ, he could understand. Guang Hong, maybe. Otabek Altin was the last person he thought would engage in such recklessness. The boy was as straight-laced as they come.

“He’s actually pretty popular. Really versatile. People dig that dark horse thing he has going on.” Phichit let go of Yuuri’s hands and sat down. He returned to his meal. “Listen, I won’t force you to do anything you’re not comfortable with but I don’t want you working another job that will drive you insane. These guys are…fun. And no one gets into my system without references and a six-figure job. For you, I'd get you a guy with seven-figures.” Phichit’s smile was reassuring and beautiful. “Think about it.”

***

Yuuri wished he could stop thinking about it.

At three in the morning, Yuuri had yet to get a wink of sleep. He was bombarded with thoughts of Phichit’s body being ravished by a man—a handsome man who Phichit would have easily slept with for free—who paid him for the opportunity. He was thinking about money, which always made him anxious, and how easy Phichit made it seem. Celestino laughed— _laughed_ —when Phichit hustled another two grand out of his pocket. Two grand on top of whatever he was already paying him that month.

Yuuri got out of bed. He needed some water. While getting a glass from his indoor water cooler, he unwittingly surveyed the room. The apartment was a gift from Phichit’s daddy. Neither of them paid rent, but even if Phichit was kicked out, the boy squirreled away enough to get another place. Then where would Yuuri be? Phichit was adamant about Yuuri not working until Yuuri could handle it—which, if Phichit was to be believed, was never—but Yuuri couldn’t freeload off Phichit forever. He didn’t care what the boy said about them being friends—it was wrong. He took another look at the area. The place was decorated with goods, things Phichit bought with his money. There were pictures of events they could afford to go to because Phichit had enough finances to cover them both. The only thing Yuuri could contribute to was the housework, but Phichit was hardly a novice in that department either.

Yuuri drank the rest of his water and went to sleep in the bed given to him by Phichit.

***

The next morning, Yuuri made Japanese style hotcakes with berry syrup and bacon. Phichit was grinning ear to ear as he took in each bite. When Yuuri walked over to pour the younger boy some milk, he paused.

“Hmm? Is something the matter?” Phichit asked.

“Nothing,” Yuuri murmured as he got himself a glass. He picked up his fork and pressed into the dessert. He paused again. “Hey, Phichit?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you think you can tell me a bit more about being a…” Yuuri gulped. “A sugar baby?”

Phichit beamed. Yuuri could not stop him if he tried.


	2. Chapter 2

 To his credit, Phichit did not throw Yuuri to the wolves but rather nestled him into his mama bird wings—covered in gold rings and diamond studded cuffs—before taking flight. Phichit had been in the business long enough to know that sugar babies weren’t born, they were made. They were formed from student debts and daddy issues and one too many bowls of ramen noodles.

“This is nature taking its course,” Phichit told Yuuri as he dragged him to brunch with his bitches. “We wouldn’t be so beautiful if we weren’t supposed to have nice things.”

Yuuri refused to comment. His head was spinning. The number of men Phichit managed to wrangle into his side business was both astounding and terrifying at the same time. When they arrived at their reservation, Otabek, Guang Hong, and Christophe were ordering drinks. Chris waved them over. “You guys finally came! You’re almost as late as JJ,” he teased. He gave Phichit a kiss on the cheek and a firm squeeze of the buttocks for Yuuri. Yuuri was used to Christophe’s advances and brushed off the approach as affectionate. “Hey, Chris.”

“Oh Yuuri, I’m so happy to hear that you’ve decided to join the business.” He winked at the younger student. “Feel free to ask for advice. My services are top-notched!” He continued to massage Yuri's fleshy bottom, cooing at his exemplary asset. "You'll have men taking out mortgages for a chance to slip inside these buns." He leaned into Yuuri's ear. "Trust me, after your first daddy has a taste, you won't be able to walk for a few days." 

Yuuri flushed. 

Phichit separated them at once. He shoved Yuuri into his chair beside him and returned Christophe to his seat. A pimp needed to have a firm hand.  “JJ’s not here? We left fifteen minutes late to avoid that!” Phichit whined. He turned to Yuuri with a bright smile, a sudden 180 from his earlier complaint. “We should just get started. When JJ arrives, he'll spend an entire hour singing praises of his lovemaking skills—Isabella spoils him too much! He thinks his manhood is a gift to all women.” Phichit rolled his eyes. “Sometimes I think I should sell my education services. If she wasn't a total nutcase, I could teach her a thing or two about keeping a baby.”

Yuuri was sweating bullets at the words ‘nutcase.’ “Is that safe for him?” He asked meekly. “I mean, are those kinds of…clients typical?” He thought about Celestino’s breakdown at their apartment.

“Oh it’s fine,” Phichit reassured. “JJ loves it. Every time she threatens to knife one of his fans, she buys him something pretty, and they end up having sex for days.” Phichit ignored Yuuri’s horrified face to take a seat.

Guang Hong looked around.  “Is Michele not coming?”

Yuuri blanched at the increasing number of boys.

Phichit shook his head. “His daddy kidnapped him for a trip to Brazil.” There was a chuckle in his tone. He was the gossiping queen. “Michele has been distant so Emil sprung this ‘surprise trip’ in order to wring out why.”

Chris grinned. “I assume you have a theory?”

Phichit made a zipper motion across his mouth. “My lips are sealed.” He turned to Yuuri. “Aside from being your broker, I am great at keeping secrets,” he lied. Yuuri doubted that to his highest heart.

While Phichit ordered his appetizers, he explained to Yuuri his position. He brought out his phone—or rather a phone Yuuri recognized as belonging to Phichit but one that his roommate had never seen before. Yuuri realized it was his pimp phone.

“For the daddies I help find, or for the babies found during my organized events, I charge a broker fee—half of the allowance of the first month—which covers the background check, credit report, and proof of funds. Standard procedure; no one escapes it. Afterward, I demand an insurance fee for protection—as you know, there’s a lot of weirdos out there, so I have to keep track of everybody’s dates, regardless if they pass the first test. For every trip or date, you need to send me a message indicating your wellbeing, especially if it is the trial date. Trial dates cost a thousand dollars, non-refundable.” Phichit pulled out an image on his phone, displaying an example of a contract. If Yuuri looked carefully, he would have seen the words ‘bondage’ and ‘golden showers.’ “If you like each other, we discuss contract details. What you’re comfortable with, what he’s comfortable with, and see if you two are a good match. There’s a one-month minimum for a contract, nonrefundable, and if both of you agree, we can sign a longer lease.” Phichit paused.  “Do you understand so far?”

Yuuri nodded. The explanation settled his nerves; Phichit made the process seem legitimate. It sounded like any other job. Once Phichit recognized Yuuri's relief, the Thai boy turned to his friends. “Alright, do you guys have any advice?”

Christophe was the first to share his wisdom. He was as eager as always. “Never keep more than three daddies at one time. Having more makes you cheap. And never sign a contract longer than a year unless you trust them with your life.” Christophe got closer. “That’s like marriage to us.”  

“Having more than three daddies is too hard to manage as a student,” Otabek explained. Yuuri was startled by the sudden input. “If you’re balancing schoolwork and another job, you won’t be able to satisfy your partners to the best of your capability. That lowers your reputation and in turn, your worth." Otabek’s severe tone made Yuuri take his advice twice as hard. “On average, I see two a month and I don’t sign anything longer than three-month leases.”

“That’s because they get super possessive of Otabek,” Phichit whispered with a smirk. “I could tell you stories about that.”

Yuuri hoped he didn’t. Christophe continued speaking. “I have a primary sugar daddy. On occasion, I sign short leases with a few new guys but I make it clear who gets my attention first. We’ve signed a year-long contract and he pays me monthly.” His eyes had hearts in them. “He bought me a condo.”

Guang Hong blushed. “I don’t need anybody but Leo.” He turned to Yuuri. “Michele, JJ, and I have exclusive contracts with one person. My daddy and I even live together.”

“He’s your boyfriend,” Phichit corrected with a reprimanding finger. “I bet you don’t even get an allowance anymore; you just use his credit card.”

“He still gives me an allowance!” Guang defended. “There’s nothing wrong with having a credit card on top of that. It's dangerous to carry too much cash.” 

Otabek maintained a business mindset throughout their session. “The benefit of exclusivity is the pay and the stress factor. You don’t have to worry about pleasing more than one person.” He explained that if a sugar daddy wants to be his only partner, the allowance must be higher than anybody else's to offset the lost funds. “Also, it means you’re on call for that one person. Phichit will set up perimeters for the relationship. Avoid becoming exclusive with someone you don't know.”

Phichit chuckled. “You learned that the hard way.”

Otabek glared.

Phichit whistled and turned in the other direction.

Yuuri took all the words to heart. He looked at his friends. “So how did you guys get into this?”

Yuuri had a general idea; they were all students like him. Christophe was doing his graduate studies, and so was Michele; their debts were phenomenal compared to his. JJ and Otabek were both musicians in the music management department while Guang Hong was doing his business degree.

Christophe was the first to answer. “I was having lunch with Phichit when one of his daddies came by. This big Italian man. He was with someone and decided to join us. Phichit’s daddy—” Christophe sent Phichit a fond, reprimanding look, “—became so overwhelmed with Phichit’s presence that he took him to the bathroom and had his wicked way with him.” Chris winked. “I was left talking to his friend, who I found out was an accomplished lawyer with a bank account as large as his bulge. We ended up leaving them behind and having a quickie in his car.” Chris chuckled to himself. “He gave me a thousand dollars for my time and said he’ll call Phichit to schedule another meeting. I didn’t even know what was happening. This sly creature hooked me up without even trying.”

Phichit preened from a job well done.

Guang Hong had a similar encounter. “I was interviewing for internships, and Phichit’s recommendation got me an interview at a recording studio. I met with the owner and producer, and he was so sweet…he saw that I was nervous, so he offered to buy me dinner. When it got too dark, he booked a hotel room for us, and we started talking…one thing led to another and we just…did it.” Guang Hong frowned. “I didn’t get the job, though.”

“I think he wanted you to work in a different field,” Phichit quipped.

Guang Hong blushed.

Yuuri turned to Otabek. The Kazakhstani shrugged. “I needed the money. JJ was in the business by then and showing off his gifts, so I assumed his pay was more than decent. I stopped him and asked if his place was looking for new employees. He told me about Isabella. I gave it a shot. There was a… _conflict_ when I first started off, so he recommended me to Phichit.”

Yuuri frowned. Before he could question Phichit's constant involvement, JJ’s booming entrance distracted everyone from their original thoughts. He slammed the doors open and through some method, he was able to call of the east winds to keep them blowing on his form. His iPhone played his theme song as he walked over to their table, sunglasses and leather jacket and all.

Christophe was not impressed.

“I say we pretend not to know him.”

Phichit swatted Chris on the shoulder. “Don’t be mean.”

As soon as he came over, JJ took a seat beside Yuuri and wrapped his arm around the older boy, nearly choking him in the embrace. “I heard you're joining the business. Good to know I can offer my expertise!”

Christophe scoffed. “I have already offered my mentorship to his luscious behind.”

JJ waved him off. “Sorry I’m late, guys. I was test-trying my new car. It’s a Cadillac—Isabella couldn’t resist. She said she saw it window shopping and just had to see me in it  _while I was in her_.” He winked. The guys groaned at his perverse humor. “Besides, I had my old car for two months already, and she thought I needed a change.”

“When did she figure out  you needed a change, before or after she tried to stab that fan of yours?” Chris asked.

“She thought the pen was a knife!” JJ pointed. “It was a simple mistake. Anybody could have made it. In her defense, the girl got close.”

“She was aiming for a kiss, and Isabella threatened to scalpel her.”

“She’s a doctor; she’s trained to protect and save lives. Just not groupies.”

“Okay,” Phichit interrupted. “This conversation is a little too intense.” Yuuri was white as a sheet. “JJ, sit down and get something to eat. We’re just telling Yuuri how we got into the business.”

JJ brightened up. “Well, I met Isabella at one of my gigs, and I thought she looked familiar so I checked my social media and saw that she’s been to every single performance I’ve ever given—from my high school performances in Canada to the ones here. She followed me to the states when I went to university. I thought ‘wow, she’s a huge fan.’ I decided to talk to her—”

“Like an idiot,” Guang Hong muttered under his breath.

“—And she turned out to be this cougar who loved my music. Each date we went on, she started giving me things. I felt a bit ashamed at first. You know, I thought if I kept taking her money after we had sex, it’d make me a prostitute.”

That’s the definition of prostitute, Yuuri thought.

“But she explained that we were in a relationship. Apparently, she knew Phichit through her clients. She’s a corporate doctor or something.”

“That’s what the papers said,” Phichit added.

“And I knew him through the international student program.” That was where Phichit gained his merchandise, apparently. “So Phichit set up a contract and Izzie and I have been together ever since.” JJ grinned.

When the food came, more anecdotes surfaced. They began pouring him with stories of romantic getaways and generous gifts. Otabek’s first daddy gave him a motorcycle. Guang Hong’s daddy surprised him on his birthday by sending him and his family on a trip to Hawaii. None of them were worried about debts—all their loans were covered. Yuuri was overwhelmed with the information.

At the end of their meal, Phichit offered his trembling friend a compromise. “Listen, Yuuri, if you’re unsure, I do plan events for a more casual, safe setting. Christophe’s primary daddy, Masumi, has one of his clients coming over for business.”

“How on earth do you know that?” Chris was staring.

“I thought about having a party in celebration. A lot of rich men and women are coming. There will be plenty of options and you’ll be able to ‘test-try’ the atmosphere. Who knows? Maybe you’ll find someone you like.”

Yuuri sipped on his Italian soda. The reasoning was fair enough. “Thanks, Phichit.”

***

When they finished their meal, Phichit called an Uber for Yuuri and told him to go ahead. There was something he needed to talk to Otabek about.

Alone, Phichit went straight into business. As a professional, he knew exactly what to say to the babies under his care, and he was aware that how they liked to be treated. Otabek was a practical person, and Phichit respected that. Admired him, even.

“I heard you’re ready to end your sabbatical.”

Phichit never mentioned anything to the others, but since Otabek's last client got too controlling, he took a break from the job. The boy was smarter than the others about his finances. He saved up for a rainy day in case he needed it. Yet, years of luxurious living made him accustomed to the extra benefits of having a sponsor—namely, the networking opportunities and the sex. Like JJ, Otabek took his music seriously. He’s gotten plenty of gigs through his clients, and he was on the verge of making a real name for himself within the biggest rave scene. 

“There are some songs I want to record.”

“And studio time costs money,” Phichit said knowingly. He put on a bright smile. “You’re in luck. I have just the person.” Phichit showed him the offer. Otabek, who had been in the profession for over two years, widened his eyes at the amount.

“That’s…a lot.” Otabek picked up the amount and read through the list of demands. The offer was ideal. Exclusive contract and the man earned a high rating by Phichit. “I'm surprised you’re not offering this to Yuuri.”

“He doesn’t want Yuuri. He wants you.”

Otabek raised an eyebrow. “Do I know him?”

“Yes.”

There was a pause. Otabek narrowed his eyes. “How old is he?”

“Legal.”  

“How old is he?” Otabek asked again. His grip crinkled the paper.

Phichit sighed. “He turned seventeen this year." 

"No." 

"Otabek..." 

"I'm not going back to him." 

"Otabek, I understand your annoyance, but you have to learn to forgive him. He waited this long, and he’s legal. Not just on the nose legal either—okay, well, it's a little on the nose but not horribly so. Isn’t that great? Legal in the state of Michigan, Russia, where he is from, Kazakhstan, where you are from, and…”

“And he lied to me,” Otabek reminded. “He lied to me about his age. Two years ago, I asked him how old he was, and he lied to me. I could have gone to jail. I could have lost my Visa and my scholarship.”

“I think you need to rearrange those priorities of yours.”

“Phichit,” Otabek warned.

Phichit sighed. “I talked to him. He’s sorry, Otabek, and he really likes you, and you really like him.” Phichit reminded. He gave Otabek a reassuring smile. “He told you he was sixteen. What’s the difference between a sixteen-year-old and a fifteen-year-old?”

“Sixteen is the age of consent here. Fifteen is the age that sends me to jail.”

“Cultural misunderstanding?” Phichit defended.

"If he thought it was okay, he wouldn’t have lied in the first place.”

“But you like him,” Phichit whined.

Otabek glared. He wondered why Phichit kept pointing that out. “I did. That’s why it hurt when I found out he was willing to see me go to prison for the chance to have sex.”

Phichit sighed. “Sex is not the reason you hire a sugar baby. There are prostitutes for that.” He looked up to Otabek with those big, brown eyes that made him the best baby and pimp in the business. “We’re here for relationships, Otabek. You accepted him because you wanted to start a relationship with him.” Phichit handed him the folder containing the offer. “He’s legal.”

“Barely.”

“More legal than what we’re getting up to.”

Otabek stood his ground. The folder made its way to his hand.

“Sleep on it, and if you don’t want to, I’ll tell Mr. Plisetsky your final message. I’ll even make sure he never bothers you again.”

***

Otabek left after paying his share of the bill. Phichit offered to cover it, but he refused. Otabek took his motorcycle to his studio apartment. The area was neat; on the bottom right-hand corner was his bed, there was a kitchen on the top right attached the wall, and his DJ equipment was located on the left. He threw the folder onto the coffee table and fixed himself a cup of mocha. After a few moments of contemplation, he glanced over to the folder. He reached out to grab it before pulling back. After a deep breath, Otabek laid on his leather couch, which was pre-owned but in good condition and reconsidered his options. 

Truthfully, if anybody asked about why he choose his profession, Otabek would reply, deadpan voice and all, about how he needed the money, how his clients were beneficial to his career, and how every moment not worrying about bills meant more free time for his music.

The last part, which he never said out loud, was how much he loved _sex_. People never suspected anything amidst of his stoic exterior, but truth be told, Otabek was a young man with a healthy sex drive. He liked how a mindblowing orgasm cleared his thoughts and how nice it was to have someone in his bed. He liked spooning, having someone’s arms around him. He liked the feeling of being filled or wrapped around someone tight and willing. The last part made him think of Yuri.

Two years, he thought, almost wistfully. It had been two years since Otabek had seen Yuri Plisetsky. The boy was beautiful; Otabek swore he was looking at an angel whenever they went on a date. Like Otabek, Yuri reminded him of a soldier; someone who worked to the bone to garner respect instead of letting circumstances dictate his future. Otabek remembered how shy and embarrassed Yuri was about his virginity, but Otabek eased him through it—took him on several dates before they did anything sexual. Yuri appreciated the build-up; his expressions said as much. Otabek remained in the dark about Yuri’s home life, but he understood that Yuri’s intent was to make a name within his family business. Whenever he got overwhelmed or frustrated, Yuri went to Otabek to complain. He trusted Otabek and the boy treasured that trust—kept that trust safe in his heart in case someone tried to separate them. Otabek smiled softly. Yuri was his first client—Otabek could not believe he was so lucky to have someone so perfect desire his company.

And then one day, Otabek ran into to Yuri’s older brother. A man who wanted to spend time with his fifteen-year-old brother. The incident was unintentional and heartwrenching and before Yuri said a word, the damage was done. Yuri attempted to defend himself, but the teenager only dug himself into a deeper hole. In the end, Otabek severed their contract. He never saw him again.

Otabek glanced over at the folder once more. Willpower lost, Otabek reached out for Yuri’s folder and opened it. A picture of Yuri fell out and without thinking, Otabek grasped for it before it fell to the ground. He held the picture tenderly before gripping it with great might.

Puberty was kind to Yuri. His growth spurt made him shoot up at least a half a foot. He was bigger than Otabek now, who stood at a minor 5’6. Seventeen-year-old Yuri was six feet. He’ll keep growing, too, Otabek mused with dark eyes. His hair was longer, and his shoulders were broad. He was big but no less beautiful.

Otabek's mouth parted slightly. When they first started their relationship, Yuri was too nervous to try being on top, no matter how much faith Otabek had in him. He wondered if Yuri gained more confidence in that regard—if Yuri was willing to stick his fingers inside his lover underneath the dinner table or throw him against the wall of the bathroom. He had the size advantage now.

Otabek sighed. As he put the folder down, another picture fell. Otabek was too surprised to catch it. As soon as he picked it up, he held his breath.

Phichit, that bastard.

Yuri was shirtless in this picture. Otabek’s eyes followed down his abs and trailed down to his groin. A pair of shorts covered up most of his member, but Otabek could see a glance of his pubic hair. His member twitched in appreciation.

Losing all of his resistance, Otabek got on his phone and called Phichit.

“Hello!” Phichit cheerily answered. “How you made your decision?”

“Yeah,” Otabek sighed. “Nice touch with the shirtless picture.”

“I can get a dick pic if you like.”

Otabek respectfully refused. “I’ll see it soon enough.” He paused. “I do have some conditions.”

Phichit did not expect anything less. He rested his feet on top of his vanity table for a job well done.

***

Before Masumi’s meeting, Christophe sent him an explicit video of him fingering his hole until it was pink and swollen and urged him to come home immediately. “I’m so desperate, daddy. If you don’t come soon, I’ll have to call my other daddy and have him fill me up.” Masumi found himself running to the bathroom and giving himself a quick jack-off before threatening Chris not to find someone else.

“Wait a few more hours, baby. I’ll be there soon.”

Chris whimpered. “I’m not sure I can stay empty that long. I want a cock so bad…”

“Stuff your hole with a dildo then! If I find out you were bouncing on some other asshole’s cock, I’ll spank you so hard you won’t be able to sit down for weeks.”

Masumi zipped up his pants and tried to settle his legal issues as soon as possible. He marched over to his employer’s interrogation room, a dimly lit space where a man was tied to a chair and his body was decorated with gashes and cigarette burns. He was sobbing for mercy. His snot soaked his face. If that wasn’t bad enough, one of his eyes appeared gorged out. Viktor turned to the source of the light.

He greeted Masumi cheerfully. “ _Privyet_ , Masumi! What brings you here?” He waved his knife like a toy. He took out the cigarette in his mouth and put out the flame on the man's nipple. He screamed. A woman was seated at the corner of the room, checking her phone. She appeared unconcerned with any of the men in the room.

Masumi sighed. “I have to get going. I brought the documents for the opening of your _business_ ,” He said the word with quotation marks hanging. “Look it over and see if everything matches what we agreed upon.” Masumi glanced at the straining man. “Did you get anything from him?”

Viktor pouted. He pressed his knife against the edge of his throat. He remained facing Masumi. The victim trembled. If he weren't so dehydrated, he would have pissed himself. There was a dried puddle from a few days ago proving this. “I don’t think he knows anything.”

Masumi sighed. “As your lawyer, I am inclined to tell you that witnesses do only harm and no good.”

Viktor rolled his eyes. “I’ve done this before.”

Masumi shrugged. Before he forgot, he told Viktor about the party. “My lover’s employer wants to have a party celebrating your arrival. Bring your richest friends sort of thing.”

“A party?” He asked, excited by the prospect. He did not pay attention to the position of his knife and accidentally slit the man’s throat. “ _Dermo_!” He swore. The blood splattered out of the man’s body. The red river gushed from his throat and gurgled out of his mouth. 

Masumi looked away. He kept a hand over his mouth to keep from regurgitating his lunch. There was a reason he never went to medical school.

Viktor a step back. “That’s a lot of blood.”

Isabella looked up from her phone. She looked down again. “That’s what happens when you slit a man’s throat.”

Viktor turned to Masumi. “Tell him to stop.”

Masumi swallowed his bile. He avoided looking at the corpse. “What?”

“He’s bleeding a lot. Get him to, I don’t know, bleed a little less.”

“I can’t make people stop bleeding,” Masumi hissed.

“I know you can’t. Just make it less messy.” Viktor stared at him. “That’s what I pay you for.”

“You pay me to keep you out of jail.”

“By making things less messy.”

Masumi opened his mouth. He turned to Isabella. “Isn’t she a doctor?”

Isabella looked up. She returned to her phone. “No, don’t look at me. He is dead. I can only work with people who are alive, mostly dead, somewhat dead, and kind of but not really dead. Not dead dead.”

 Masumi groaned. “Listen, I have somewhere to get to. Let’s just…I don’t know, just leave him here. Sign the papers, and we’ll figure something out tomorrow.”

“But what if Yakov finds out?” Viktor complained. “He’s still mad about the girl who committed suicide.”

“You pushed her off the building.”

“You weren’t there, how do you know what happened?”

“She had a knife in her back!”

“I was framed!”

“This isn’t a courtroom!”

Viktor paused. He seemed somewhat relieved. “Oh, that’s right.” He laughed. 

Masumi groaned. “Can we just…shove him somewhere?”

“Like underneath a bed for dead bodies?”

Masumi was about to make a sarcastic response before pausing. “Do you have somewhere in mind?”

“We have a pit.”

Masumi nodded. “Sounds good.”

“Great,” Viktor cleaned up one of his knives on his coat. “So what’s this about a party?”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apparently, Japanese fans are calling Chris’ boyfriend Masumi and Kubo has been caught using that name as well. Funnily enough, I was going to name him Matthew so I wasn’t far off. I’m not sure if that’s his real name or just a universally agreed fandom name (because Masumi has been confirmed as a co-coach and former Swiss skater by the franchise and correct me if I am wrong, but Masumi is a Japanese name). Nonetheless, I’ll make Swiss-Japanese and be done with it. 
> 
> Yuuri and Viktor meet in the next chapter but there won’t be a sex scene until chapter 4. There will be an otayuri sex scene in the next chapter.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Otabek is a slut for Yuri. He is one thirsty power bottom and thus this chapter was born.

Jesus Christ brought salvation, Joseph Gayetty commercialized toilet paper, and Phichit Chulanont put Yuuri Katsuki in yoga pants. Though hardly appropriate for a dinner party, Phichit encouraged Yuuri to make the purchase, claiming that the pants were an investment for the future.

“You don’t know how luscious your behind is, Yuuri. I know a couple of daddies who will blow an easy thousand for the chance to whack one on it.” Though Yuuri shouted his protests, Phichit was never one to indulge in false flattery. The truth was that Yuuri’s ass was godsend—round and plump and fat with a hefty amount of jiggle. His bodacious bottom was shaped by a pair of creamy thick thighs that gave men life and a pudgy tummy made for grabbing. “I’m willing to bet a month’s allowance that your first gift will be a pair of panties.” There’s not a soul on earth dumb enough to turn down the opportunity to see that butt stretched through a pair of Agent Provocateur. Phichit could imagine the Japanese boy parading around in a pair of too small briefs, something sheer to showcase his used hole or maybe a lacy number to highlight the elegance of his curves.

“Stop it,” Yuuri gasped for propriety’s sake. He scampered into a men’s store to investigate their dress shirts. “Phichit, be serious. I want to make a good impression.” He fiddled through the silks and the cotton, red-faced and too embarrassed to notice the price tag. 

Phichit scoffed. The only way to make a bad impression was to hide that glorious ass in a pair of cargos. The Thai boy skipped over to his side and picked out a sleek navy button-up. “Try this one. The color matches your skin tone.”

Yuuri hesitated. After careful inspection, he saw that nothing was amidst with the fabric. It was simply a nice, well-made shirt. He took the offered piece, grabbed a few more that caught his eye, and headed to the dressing room. While Yuuri was gone, Phichit used the chance to shop for some proper pants. His goal was to develop a wardrobe showcasing Yuuri’s best assets. Phichit controlled his desire to splurge. These were investment pieces; his dream for Yuuri's first shopping spree was a day trip on the streets of Milan or Paris, catered to by a handsome silver fox with a black card. While deciding between a pair of leather pants or a flat front that outlined Yuuri’s curves, he received a phone call from Otabek.

“I take it Yuri has arrived?” Phichit asked, not a tone higher than necessary. Though Otabek was skilled at hiding his distress, he tended to react more favorably when Phichit displayed nonchalance. While keeping a wary ear on the conversation, Phichit admired the quality of the leather. The design was formal enough that people would not recognize the material off the bat, but they would certainly stare at the model in them.

“Yes. He arrived five minutes ago. I wanted to confirm our session and the payment.”

“Yep!” Phichit chirped. He cursed his carelessness and lowered his cheer. “He paid my fee as soon as you accepted his proposal. Anything he gives you is yours to keep.”

“Good.” Otabek paused. “I’ll report back in three hours.”

“And not a second later,” Phichit reminded. Though unappreciated, he was wearing a knowing smile; Otabek never missed a checkpoint in his life—except when Yuri Plisetsky was involved. Phichit hummed as he hung up, dropping his selection back on the table after being distracted by the good news. As a businessman, he was inclined to predict negative outcomes. As a romantic, he hoped for the best. _They were just so cute together!_ Phichit could not help but root for their reconciliation. While there was plenty of history that needed to be resolved, Phichit was confident that an old-fashioned coupling, two cups of cocoa, and a long conversation about their feelings, would do the trick. The Thai pimp hoped three hours was enough.

***

When Otabek met Yuri Plisetsky, the Russian was a sprout swaying in a field of weeds; a bud in bloom but no less beautiful than his rosy potential. From his pictures, Otabek assumed that Yuri turned time into an ally, adding height to his heels and sharpening his cheekbones like a bladed knife. In person, Otabek realized he was mistaken. Time was not a friend of Yuri Plisetsky. Time was Yuri Plisetsky’s bitch.

Towering just an inch below six feet, Yuri came to his apartment accompanied by two bodyguards, a familiar red-head by the name of Mila Babicheva, and an anonymous individual whom Phichit would describe as a “handsome Nazi” because of his buzz cut and Scandinavian features. Otabek was aware of the extra company—he became accustomed to the hired help the last time he was with Yuri. He made two extra cups of cocoa in preparation, and there was a third mug on standby in case it was “one of those days.”

Yuri accepted the beverage. He was quiet—unusually so. During their first meeting, he was anxious to disprove Otabek of his inexperience. He hissed and growled at all sexual innuendos, everything from hot dog parlors to a popsicle stand on the street. His fear of pain made him the ideal target for a half-an-hour rim job that left him sobbing on the couch with his underwear drenched.

Otabek missed those days like a nun missed spankings. The Kazakhstani sighed and brought out cookies from the oven. He offered a piece to Yuri. “We should talk,” he suggested.

Yuri chomped on the morsel right out of his hands—he was a sucker for sweets. When he realized his reaction, he turned a delicious shade of red that made Otabek’s cock twitch. Otabek confirmed his earlier suspicion. The second Yuri accepted responsibility for his past actions, Otabek was going to jump him. He was going to climb that dick like Everest and eat up his cum like rice pudding.

Yuri fiddled with his fingers. Otabek imagined swallowing those fingers to the hilt, jamming those perfect, elegant digits down his throat until he was gagging for more. He shivered. He thought about how good it would feel for those fingers to curl up inside him, all wet and dripping, playing with his hole until he came.

“Otabek…I…fuck! Shit, I can’t believe this is really happening,” Yuri muttered.

Otabek’s heart dropped at Yuri’s reluctance. He clenched his fist and sat down. Otabek had his pride. He could not go further with Yuri until he apologized.

Despite his larger form, Yuri’s personality was far from evolved. He was still obsessed with cats—judging by the cheetah printed sleeves of his leather jacket and the tiger top he adorned to their meeting. His hair was longer but held back in a ponytail. His voice was deeper, and his shoulders were broad enough to lift ships. His angelic air remained, but he was less of a cherub and more of a seraph to Otabek’s pleasure. Regardless, Otabek found him as entrancing as when they first met. He was strong and fair; and after a few moments of endless slurs and curses, Yuri slouched his shoulders in resignation.

“Otabek,” Yuri addressed, staring him straight in the eye. Otabek’s lips twitched in satisfaction. This was the expression he expected. “I’m sorry for what happened. I shouldn’t have lied to you. You were my friend and my lover and I put you in a precarious situation. I was wrong to do that to you.” Otabek sighed in relief. The words were rehearsed but the emotions were not. As he moved forward to forgive Yuri, the seventeen-year-old kept on talking. “Though in my defense, I only lied about being one year older—”

Before the younger boy could say anything stupid, Otabek lunged onto the boy.  

Yuri’s eyes widened as he was tackled onto the couch. His bodyguards took a step further, hands on their guns. They hesitated when they saw that, instead of malicious intent, the room was thick with desire. Otabek straddled Yuri's lap as he took off his jacket. Bodyguards be damned, he was having this young man whether they were present or not.  

“Otabek, wait!”

“I’m done waiting,” Otabek told him. He threw his shirt to the side. Mila and Yuri shared simultaneous gasps at the muscular torso with the perfectly aligned abs and the most perfect brown nipples Yuri had ever seen.

Yuri’s erection pushed against his zipper. Pink dusted his cheeks; unable to look him in the eye, Yuri turned to the side to avoid his gaze.

Otabek refused to be ignored. He grabbed Yuri’s hands and placed them on his pecs. “Play with my nipples,” Otabek ordered. He grinded on Yuri’s clothed dick for good measure. “I want you to touch me."

Yuri moaned. Unable to resist those pretty, puckering buds, he gave them a little twist. Otabek purred in the catlike manner that drove Yuri crazy. His reaction unleashed a wave of confidence and curiosity in Yuri, who gave them another squeeze.

“Yeah, just like that," Otabek instructed. "I love the way you touch me; you know exactly how to work my body, don’t you?” Yuri pinched them a second time, admiring the way they twitched in his hand. “I bet you can get me to cum from just playing with them. Come on, Yuri.”

Yuri squirmed. He flicked them up and down, admiring the way they twitched. Each ministration led to a guttered moan from Otabek. Yuri lifted himself up and latched onto one of the buds. Otabek gasped from the sudden action. Like a kitten with a teat, Yuri fastened his mouth around Otabek’s nipples and began to suck. Otabek moaned deliciously. He arched up against Yuri’s mouth and dug his fingers into Yuri’s hair, undoing his mess of ponytail. Yuri’s blond locks spilled over his shoulders, enhancing his ethereal presence with a halo of gold. When he was done ruining the first one, Yuri switched over to the second without minding Otabek’s shock. If the older boy were to look down, he would see a swollen areola and dime-sized nub. The perfect pair of tits for a whore.

Otabek bit down his whine as his nipples got worked raw. With a breathless whimper, he maneuvered his hips so that his cock was directly against Yuri’s own manhood. Otabek mounted the Russian’s strained cock. Unable to control himself, his pelvis jerked up and down as he panted for more fiction. 

“Fuck Otabek, you’re…you can’t do that! You feel too good!”

Otabek shut his eyes so that he could focus on the sound of Yuri’s moans. The second Otabek started his rut, Yuri was unable to maintain his place on his nipples. The Russian fell back on the couch. Otabek did most of the moving; his hips swung out of control as he rode the boy. Otabek could not help himself; he was so hard and painfully needy. His hole clenched at the thought of having the cock that was underneath him inside of him. The image of being bred was what did him in; Otabek gave out a low, keening growl as he suddenly came, his cock pulsing through his pants until a thick wad of pleasure soaked the material. His hips twitched a final time before giving in to the pressure. Otabek slumped on top of the younger boy’s body but used his left hand to keep himself sitting upright.

“That was great." 

“Fuck, you feel good,” Yuri whimpered; his cock unsatisfied and aching through his jeans. The sound alerted Otabek’s hole to its empty status. With a quick apology kiss, he told Yuri not to worry. They could go as many rounds as he liked. 

“You bought me for the whole night,” Otabek reminded. “After this, I’ll sign the contract for the month so you can fuck me whenever you want.” He would submit a schedule to Yuri for dates and there were a number of venues that offered theatrical entertainment and coital privacy. If Yuri preferred, Otabek could fuck him as well—like they used to. He doubted that would be a consideration after Yuri got a taste of his hole.

After Otabek finished unzipping Yuri’s jeans, he made a show of removing his pants. His impromptu strip tease awakened Yuri’s possessive side as he ordered Mila and Handsome Nazi to leave.

“Get the fuck out, you perverts!” Yuri shouted as he threw a mug at the peeping toms. The cup shattered against the wall. Otabek frowned, unamused by the pause in their activities. He could care less about the broken object. Yuri would pay him back later. Handsome Nazi, new to the business, made a motion to protest but was quickly dragged away by the more experienced Mila. She threw a wink at her charge and wished them the best of luck. As soon as they shut the door, Otabek’s ass pressed against Yuri’s bare cock.

“Fuck!” Yuri swore as his cock was pushed against the small space between Otabek’s firm cheeks. Each movement rubbed his cock over the sensitive places, making Otabek’s hole soft and squishy for penetration. Lube trickled out of his hole, getting Yuri’s cock soaking wet. Yuri, overwhelmed with youthful impatience, pressed his head against the hole.

Otabek hissed at the intrusion. Yuri’s eyes widened at his perceived mistake; he sought to remove himself before Otabek stopped him.

“No.” Otabek adjusted himself. “Don’t stop. I want it. I want your cock buried in my ass and pounding me all night. Just give me a second.” Otabek took two of his fingers and played with his hole. Yuri turned away to keep himself from blowing his load over the show. When he was finished, Otabek readied himself for more Yuri. “I want my hole ruined by your cock.”

Yuri panted and moaned as Otabek continued to sink onto him until the older boy bottomed out with a pleased moan. Yuri’s balls rested against his ass and Yuri groaned at the sensation of Otabek’s butt rubbing against them.

“You feel so fucking amazing,” Yuri groaned. “You’re so hot inside. Like your insides are made of jam.”

Otabek relished in the feeling of being spread open on Yuri’s cock; there was an especially delightful tingle each time Otabek managed to land on his prostate. His toes curled with each sharp hit and the sensation made him go faster, harder; he clenched his hole around Yuri’s thickness and tried to wring out more pleasure. He rode Yuri with the dedication of a jockey. While Otabek slammed himself on the cock, Yuri rolled his hips to provide more friction. Otabek loved the involvement if his face was any indication. His mouth was open-wide with his tongue panting out, his pupils were dilated with hearts, and his cheeks were lit with the rouge of an upcoming orgasm.

With one final jerk forward by Yuri, the Russian came inside Otabek, filling him up the way he liked it. Riding on the high of his orgasm, the teenager fell boneless on the couch.

Otabek’s hole squeezed the cock one more time, trying to collect as much sperm as possible. After milking him dry, he slumped to Yuri’s side. He was careful about keeping the dick lodge in him; there was something pleasant about the fullness of a limp cock. Like they were connected beyond lust.

Following the high of an orgasm was a deep slumber. Otabek was used to post-coital side effects. He sighed as he was forced to abandon the fantastic cock. With grave reluctance, Otabek opened up his ass and slowly removed himself off the dick. The cum leaked out of him. Otabek groaned in frustration. He expected the mess but the knowledge made it no more pleasant. 

Otabek’s coltish legs was reduced to its knees following the intense fucking. He crawled over to the coffee table where the contract laid. Flipping through the documents, he smiled fondly at Yuri’s signature—beautiful but anxiously complicated and therefore messier than it should have been. He wanted to be seen as an adult and made an effort that backfired. He could imagine Yuri’s furrowed brows and bewildered expression every time he was made to sign his name.

On a more serious note, Otabek analyzed the terms of the revised contract. He heard from Phichit that Yuri made a few corrections of his own. Simple things. There were extra demands for the increase allowance and a few other conditions as well.  Phichit approved of them from a technical standpoint but it was up to Otabek if he agreed. If there were any more complications or disagreements, he needed to call Phichit before he signed so that they could draft up a new proposal. Otabek smiled in approval. Yuri was not an idiot. He desired Otabek’s company but not at the risk of an imbalanced arrangement. Regardless of the additions, the deal was reasonable. There were no hidden clauses or else Phichit would have given him a warning. Otabek grabbed a pen and signed his name next to Yuri’s.

With a sigh, he grabbed hold of Yuri’s jacket and traveled to the doorway. He saw that Mila was alone, meaning her partner must be on a bathroom break or out to grab food. He hoped it was the latter because he would have preferred to have dinner alone with Yuri. Though the Russian was a good head taller than him, the jacket only covered up to the middle of his ass. If anyone were to walk in, they would see a sexed up Kazakhstani with cum leaking down his thighs.

Otabek wondered if Yuri’s paranoia extended to lovers because as soon as he got to the stove, there was the sound of a stumble. Otabek turned around to see Yuri had fallen off the couch. The young man popped his head up. Despite the embarrassment covering his face, Yuri’s glare was visible. He scolded Otabek’s appearance.

“What are you doing?” He hissed. “You look like—!”

“—someone who just got the fuck of his life?” Otabek finished.  “I did.”

Yuri was reduced to a flustered, blubbering mess. This time, his ears were burning up and the embarrassment was complemented by his pride. “Can you please put on some more clothes?”

“Why?” Otabek turned around so that Yuri could get a full view of his swollen nipples, pretty as Hershey’s kisses and his worn-out cock dangling from his loins. “I thought you liked me like this?”

Without a doubt, Otabek was going to give Yuri an aneurysm. The boy swore and told him to get dressed. “My bodyguards are outside! I don’t want them to see you looking so…”

Otabek waited for him to finish.

. “… _good_ ,” Yuri confessed. He cast his eyes downward. The shame was radiating from his voice. He was jealous. Otabek was making him jealous. Warmth radiated from his chest as he complied to Yuri’s demands. He grabbed his boxers off the floor and put them on. Before Yuri could complain about the lack of effort, Otabek substituted the jacket with Yuri’s tiger shirt. The sight of Otabek wearing a tiger head replaced Yuri’s jealousy with instant arousal.

“Better?” Otabek asked, aware of the effect his outfit choices were having on the teenager. He returned to making dinner, the reflection of his smirk could be seen on the pot.   

Yuri gulped. His eyes widened at the remaining cum stain on Otabek’s leg.

“Yeah…” He muttered. “Much better…”

***

Christophe picked Yuuri and Phichit up in a limousine paid for by his daddy. The Swiss man was dressed in a tight V-neck shirt and tailored pants. Tonight, his bubble butt needed to be in peak condition. He was competing with Yuuri for backside attention and as much as he liked the boy, he was not abdicating his throne to anyone less than Beyonce, the queen.

"Where is your daddy?" Yuuri asked. He heard all daddies were different and wondered if the man was any more or less than Phichit's enraged Italian. 

"He'll be arriving with Nikiforov," Chris informed. He sighed dreamily. "He told me that if Viktor enjoys the festivities, he'll be less inclined to get into trouble and then we'll have more free time to spend together. I'm really hoping that we can get a private room tonight. I want to show him some of my new dance moves. He might finally agree to let me install a spinning pole in our living instead of the regular one in our bedroom." 

“The strip club I booked is top notch," Phichit said with a wink. "And I already prepared a private room for you. It even has your name on it. With a star."

Chris gasped. "You treat me so well."

"I do my best."

Yuuri sweated bullets as they drew closer to the upcoming event. To distract himself from his anxiety, he asked who Viktor Nikiforov was.

"Oh, he's the guy the party is for. He arrived in the city to set up an American outpost for his company,” Phichit informed as he poured Yuuri a glass of champagne for the nerves. “According to my sources, Viktor Nikiforov is old money but is actively involved in building his own empire; he has businesses all over the world and people are queuing for the chance to get in touch with him. Thanks to his presence at the party, I was able to invite at least two dozen more potential daddies to the party.” He made them pay a substantial fee for the privilege as well—an ideal test of their financial means.

Phichit waited for Yuuri to finish his first glass before continuing. The boy downed the champagne in one gulp. His nerves were on fire. “Should I really be here? I doubt someone with that much prestige wants someone like me around!”

While pouring the second offering of bubbly, he told Yuuri not to worry. “This isn’t his party; it’s mine. He’s just the bait. Besides, he’ll be too busy to notice you.” Yuuri was no more controlled on his second glass. Phichit held off on pouring a third before they reached their destination. “Yuuri, I made sure to gather some awesome daddies for this event. I even have some recommendations if you need them.” Phichit waved his phone. “But I want you to find someone you have real chemistry with; you should enjoy your first time, even if that person is paying for it. No," Phichit's eyes burned with the flames of justice. "Especially if that person is paying for it. You'll be killing two birds with one stone. Great sex and cash. The currencies of success and happiness. Just remember,” the warning in his tone was evident, “You do not, under any circumstances, go home with anyone without running them by me. When they ask why you are there, you tell them that you are one of Phichit's _friends_. If they do not ask, still make it very clear you are one of my _friends_.”

Yuuri swallowed his own saliva. He reached out for the champagne bottle. Phichit poured his third glass of the night. “I understand,” Yuuri whimpered.

"Good." Another thought passed through Phichit's head. "Are you sure you're ready to do this?"

His face flushed with inebriation that could have been mistaken for arousal. He nodded his head. "Yes, but…” Yuuri’s heart pounded. “What if I find someone I like and he doesn’t want to pay for my…” Yuuri coughed. “Company?”

Phichit stroked Yuuri's pulled back hair. He smiled warmly. “Trust me, Yuuri. You’re too precious to be taken advantage of like that. I would never allow it.”  

There was no way he would allow such a cheap, squirrely asshole to sink his cock into his beloved friend. Bitches better have his money or be ready for the pound.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Viktor was supposed to appear in this chapter but I got really behind and it’s 3:30 AM on a Sunday and this was due yesterday. I try to be disciplined about my update schedule and I didn't want to start my week on a late update. Henceforth, I've been awake writing this chapter (and others). Frankly, I did not think it was worth the wait to write in two or three extra paragraphs. Plus, I liked the ending line on this one. 
> 
> I was nervous to write Otabek because I wanted to keep him in character (maintain his stoicism and seriousness) but also give him a little bit of hungry hooker vibe. I hope I was able to convey that. I do love his character and hate to make him OOC. This is also a concern of mine with Phichit. :(
> 
> I love older!Yuri Plisetsky. 
> 
> Next Chapter is a pure Yuuri/Viktor chapter. They will have their first meeting and their first date all in one. Viktor will get creepy in the next chapter. Basically, I'm writing a lot of my smut based on yaoi and hentai manga.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Major dubious consent here. Illegal and counted as sexual assault in several states and certain countries. I wasn't lying when I said that Viktor was dark in this story. But this is fanfiction.  
> If it makes you all feel better, Yuuri would have had a similar reaction to Viktor if he had been sober.

When Phichit was a child, his mother brought home a flock of baby chicks from the factory, birthed early enough to escape their fate as _Khai Khao_ but not fortunate enough to avoid becoming fried chicken. His father took one look at the chirping balls of fluff and demanded their immediate removal. Phichit will never forget the horror in their eyes; the way they cheeped for mercy as they were sent to the chopping block. Three were left behind to become a pet, a champion cockfighter, and next month’s dinner.

Yuuri’s terror rivaled that of soon-to-be executed chickens. He held onto Phichit’s hand through the entrance of the club, and while Phichit took a moment to coo over his friend’s shyness, he regained his senses in time to shoot a few evil eyes. This was not a time to lose focus, Phichit reminded himself. One wrong move and he’ll be selling his friend off to a Splenda Daddy.

The ideal situation was to send Yuuri off to a private room to catch his breath. The reality was that they had no time for that. The hour to act was now. Phichit confirmed with the doorman that all his prospective daddies had arrived. If his calculations were correct, his potential suitors were drinking their weight in liquor—tipsy enough to spend money but not so drunk that their on-hand lawyers would dissuade them from making irresponsible purchases.

Yuuri needed the job, both on a financial basis and as a lifestyle change. His Japanese friend was a worrier with low self-esteem and anxiety issues. His dependence on Phichit’s finances was driving him into a corner. He felt guilty all the time. He was stressed all the time. He was abstinent _all the time_. Once Yuuri realized how much people were willing to pay for his pretty _not-so-little_ behind, Phichit was positive that his confidence would shoot up like a junkie at a rave.

The problem was his presentation. There had to be a way for Phichit to get Yuuri to loosen up. He refused to solicit attention. Only rotten meat was thrown out to the dogs; the wolves had to come to him.

While Phichit strategized, Chris caught a glimpse of his lover across the room. He waved him over and waited for the tall Swiss man to snake his way through the crowd. The momentary distraction would later turn into inspiration for Phichit.

“Yuuri, let me introduce you to Masumi, the most amazing daddy in the world,” Chris explained sweetly. He kissed Masumi on the cheek. “Isn’t he handsome? Great face, big cock, and a great big wallet. The perfect combination.”

Masumi rolled his eyes. Despite the obscene introduction, he offered up his hand. Yuuri shyly took it. He saw the affection in Masumi’s eyes when he glanced over at Chris. Yuuri would be lucky to find a man who looked at him with half the love.   

“Masumi? That’s a Japanese name, isn’t it?”

“I was named after my grandfather. He was a kamikaze pilot who flew off course and landed in the Swiss Alps. Fortunately, he was found by my grandmother—she was on the run for murdering her husband with a ski pole."

Yuuri laughed.

 “He’s not joking.”  

Yuuri stopped laughing.

Chris clung to Masumi’s arm. “Phichit booked us a private room so we can spend the night alone.” He stood on his tippy-toes to lick Masumi’s ear.  “There’s a spinning pole; I get to show you all the moves I couldn’t do at home.”

“You showed me quite a few moves last night.”

Chris’ fingers found themselves unbuckling Masumi’s belt. His palm snuck down his tailored pants while his lips traveled to his ears. Masumi hitched his breath as Chris’s manicured and massaged his cock. “All the moves,” Christ whispered. He nibbled on Masumi’s neck. “I’m going to let you do things to me even I’d be ashamed to talk about.”

Masumi groaned. He didn’t think it was possible for their sex life to get any dirtier. With a single swoop, he collected Chris into his arms and bid the two Asians adieu.

The mention of the spinning pole reminded Phichit of April, last year, where he and Chris convinced Yuuri to sign up for pole-dancing lessons. Despite his initial awkwardness, Yuuri bloomed like a rose under those lessons. He was the star pupil, even besting Chris in skill (a fact that the Swiss man would never confess to). If there was one thing Phichit was sure about, it was that Yuuri was a performer. With the right stage, no one who could take their eyes off him. Phichit grinned. Grabbing a pink drink from a nearby waitress, he shoved it down Yuuri’s throat. 

“What are you doing?” Yuuri coughed out.

“See that pole over there?” Phichit pointed to a stage—one of the many that surrounded the club. “Yuuri, that’s your pole. That’s the horse you ride on to your prince, and you will ride it hard. Once these daddies see you twerking on that stick, they will be throwing money at you. And their cocks.”

“I don’t think—”

“Yuuri,” Phichit interrupts with a sure smile. “ _Men want you._ If you want to hook a good daddy, you have to see yourself the way they see you.”    

Yuuri was barely able to get in a word of protest before Phichit grabbed him another oddly colored concoction. This time, Phichit handed it to him. Yuuri took one look at the pole and then another at the crowd. He downed the drink in one gulp.

***

Phichit Chulanont arranged Viktor a VIP room with a slew of pretty girls and boys fighting for his attention. They counted the diamonds on his _Piaget Altiplano_ and admired the sleek of his leather shoes, custom-made from a cobbler in Russia. They draped themselves over expensive couches with glasses that never emptied. From an objective standpoint, the party was great. The food was good, and the music was better. Viktor was having fun up until the time he wasn’t; at some point, the lights got too bright, and the gold-diggers started fishing through empty mines.

One girl wandered into his lap, pupils wide and dress slipping off her shoulders. “I love your hair color, Viktor! It’s so pretty,” she cooed, twiddling his silver locks. “How about you show me if it’s natural?”

Viktor put his drink down and leaned in. Just as the girl thought she was about to get lucky, Viktor crushed her dreams with a smile.

“You’re trying too hard. Move on.”

The girl gasped. Before she could get a curse in, Viktor decided she was too heavy to entertain. He lifted her up to the side of the couch. She was stunned by the move and barely had time to respond when Viktor got up. As she tried to follow him out, one of Viktor’s bodyguards came through and dragged her to the common area. Viktor watched as the drunken stranger attempted to break free. Her friends stared from the side; no one dared to follow her and risk losing their place in the VIP lounge.

Yakov, who saw the whole scene, followed him to the balcony where he overlooked at the downstairs crowd. They seemed entertained, he noted in amusement.

“If you’re not having fun, could you at least try to make some connections?” Yakov asked. He caught up to Viktor’s side, and his gruff exterior was pleasant compared to the all the pandering. “There’s a lot of important people here.”

Viktor grinned. “I’m the most important person here.” He saw one of his guests get a lap dance from a barely legal teenager. “They’ll come to me.”

“You sound like your father. Cocky son of a bitch.”

Viktor laughed. “He was your son-in-law; you loved him as much as I did.”

Yakov’s lips twitched. “Speaking of family, have you seen your brother? Can’t reach him on the phone, either.”

“Have you tried calling Mila?”

“She said he’s fine but who knows what her standards are. She lets that brat cause more trouble than anybody.” 

Viktor waved his phone, indicating a clear depiction of Yuri’s whereabouts. “Mila sent me an update. Apparently, he skipped tonight to spend time with his new whore. She gave me a picture; he’s a pretty thing with a sweet, caramel ass to sink his cock into. Wanna see?” He shoved Otabek’s picture into Yakov’s face before the man could disagree. Viktor licked his lips. He remembered the boy from two years ago. Yuri was obsessed with him. If Viktor were lucky, his little brother would spiral so far down the tower that he’ll have no choice but to beg Viktor for help. He should prepare the chains just in case. “It’ll be good for our kitten to have some decent stress relief.”

“What stress does that brat have?” Though he complained, Yakov’s affection for his youngest grandson was evident. He nodded his approval to Viktor. “At least you’re keeping track of him. That’s good.”

“We are brothers,” Viktor agreed. He clutched onto his phone. “It’s what father would have wanted.” There was a twinkle in his eyes when he said that. Yakov had seen that expression on the late Nikiforov, specifically when he recorded the whereabouts of his wife and lover; coordinates sent to him by the tracking device he implanted in their bodies—all done without their consent. The two worshiped him, though, so Yakov doubted they would have complained if they knew. The Nikiforov line bred submission like men bred dogs.

On the brighter side, Yakov should be grateful Viktor was not half as mad as his father, at least not yet. Since Viktor was not satisfied dealing with strangers, he was about to suggest they talk to Georgi. The Russian was currently getting hustled out of his Swarovski embedded suit. A loud cheer from below distracted both of them.

Viktor glanced over to see the attention grabber and as soon as he did, his eyes widened, and his mouth hit the floor faster than the young man’s ass.  With perfection that surpassed David and sensuality that would make Aphrodite weep, the stranger slapped his ass and got Viktor’s cock so hard; it could pound earthquakes into the ground. The man turned and spun, climbed down the pole, twerked up the pole, and bent his head so far back his head touched his ankles.

“Angels do exist,” he muttered as his body was carried away to the heavens. Yakov tried to stop him from getting out of sight, but Viktor was already on the move.

“Get back, you stupid fool!”

“Yakov, my soulmate is waiting!” He insisted. The old man added a little spring in his step, so Viktor ran. He jumped off the stairs to escape him and bumped into Masumi on the way down.

“Hey, Viktor. If everything is okay, can I have the night off? Me and Chris want to have some time to ourselves.” Chris coughed. “This is Chris, by the way. You met last Christmas.”  

“Yes, sure. Good to see you.” Viktor agreed hastily. He could not keep his eyes off of the delectable cream puff on the center stage. Another round of wooing alerted all of their attention.

Chris laughed. “Phichit knows how to draw a crowd. Yuuri might set a record with all these men drooling for his ass.”

The name was like Quasimodo in the tower, and it rang the bells in Viktor’s head. He grabbed Chris’s shoulders and begged for an answer to his life’s questions. “Do you know that man?” He asked; he sounded desperate, hysterical even.

Masumi tried to pry his hands off while Chris answered. The Swiss barely noticed the rough treatment—it was gentler than a spanking.

“That’s Yuuri. A friend of mine and one of Phichit’s boys. He is truly darling. He has the prettiest blush when you get him embarrassed, and there are so many things that get him red.” Chris winked at him. “I’m surprised Phichit got him to dance; he was a nervous wreck all day. This is his first night on the job.”

Once again, the name Phichit appeared. More than ever, Viktor was grateful for this enigmatic man and his money-grubbing ways. From what he heard, the man was a pimp that dealt in the highest circles. He had a steady contract with several families for protection and had a side business in extortion. He never crossed paths with Viktor; his trades ensured the minimal contact with Viktor's kind.

Viktor was able to put all of that aside when the gorgeous stripper took off his shirt. Viktor started drooling.

“So he’s for sale?” He asked as he wiped his mouth.

Chris burst out laughing. “Hold on there, tiger.” Chris batted his long, dark lashes at him. They were so dark; they served as a reminder that Chris was not a natural blonde. “If you want him, you better be willing to shell out the big bucks. _Yuuri’s a_ _virgin_.” He whispered the last part like it was a scandal. “And a baby, not a whore. We expect more than a one-night stand.” Despite the nature of his work, Chris spoke with pride. “If you want a contract, you have to get through Phichit and Phichit does not play games when it comes to his friends—especially Yuuri.”

“He’s a virgin?” Viktor asked, completely disregarding everything that was said. Masumi sighed. This was not going to be fun. He had dealt with Phichit first hand and he knew the chances of Viktor getting the opportunity to bed the Japanese boy was slim to none.

“Viktor—”

“Yep! Total virgin. So you better put in an offer quick or else—”

“Where is Phichit?”

Chris gaped at the fanaticism in Viktor’s eyes. The look made him regret saying anything at all. He turned to Masumi who nodded at him. It was not a nod of approval but one directing him to safety. They were not to stand in the way of Viktor Nikiforov. Chris pointed to a direction in the crowd. He could have been pointing to anyone, so Viktor memorized all people watching Yuuri—it would be useful if Viktor needed to dispose of his opponents. Without another word, Viktor shoved Chris into Masumi’s arms out and marched towards Yuuri.

“Should I warn Phichit? Or Yuuri?” Chris asked.  
Masumi shook his head. He grabbed Chris’s wrist and dragged him to the private room. “There’s nothing we can do about it. Don’t worry, Yuuri will be well-taken care of by Viktor. He’ll have diamonds and cars and a poodle. Who doesn’t love poodles?”

“Or he might not get the contract?” Chris offered hopefully. “Phichit would never let anyone dangerous get near Yuuri.”

Masumi was a lawyer. He knew exactly what to say to get what he wanted. And he wanted a happy and horny sugar baby to give him a lap dance and suck his cock.

“Of course he won’t,” Masumi reassured. “Phichit would never let that happen.” Once he saw the relieved look on Chris’s face, he pulled the younger man into a deep kiss. They stumbled through the doorway and landed on the king-size bed. Masumi squeezed Chris’s ass with his left hand and sent a text to Viktor with the right, directing him to a new game plan. He was still on the clock, after all.

Chris begged him to shove his cock inside. The heated pleas made Masumi drop his phone to grab both butt cheeks. Masumi moaned.

He was a damn good lawyer to afford all of this.

***

When Yuuri finished dancing, he came off the stage glistening with sweat. While not exactly brimming with confidence, his anxiety faded away into an unusual calm. He was about to tell Phichit he was ready when men from all corners of the club lined up to paw at him. The attention chipped away at his serenity; he kept is head sloshed and tried to escape their wandering hands.

“Okay, boys, time to take your grubby hands off my friend while you still have them,” Phichit warned. He shooed them away with a bright smile and eyeliner sharp enough to kill. Yuuri stared at him in wonder. He must have fixed it up when Yuuri wasn’t paying attention. He was also sipping a Pina Colada and sporting a hickey shaped like Alaska. Again, Yuuri wondered when he got it. He swore Phichit was in front of him the entire time.

Phichit walked towards him and led him to the bar by the butt. “You stay here,” he instructed. “Try to mingle but don’t mingle too far. There’s a pen of cocks on the side for you, and they want some of this goodness.” Phichit slapped his ass. Yuuri jumped. He swore he heard a growl in the distance. “And if you meet someone you particularly like, send them over to me for a vetting.” Phichit threw him a wink. “Have fun. Don’t get too out of control.”

Yuuri obeyed without question. Though he took Phichit’s advice to heart, he could not deny that another drink would be a godsend. The dancing took off most of his edge but it also dampened his courage. He decided that one more drink wouldn’t hurt.

Yuuri was too tipsy to come up with an order so the bartender decided to surprise him. He called him a pretty boy and handed him a strawberry mojito. Yuuri sucked it up in an instant, humming in pleasure as the tangy fruitiness coated his tongue. He was so distracted by the taste; he did not notice someone drawing near him. When he made the slightest turn, the stranger spilled his drink all over Yuuri’s new pants.

“Sorry man!”

The two of them struggled to wipe him clean. Eventually, Yuuri laughed off the awkward interaction and told the stranger it was fine. “It’s alright. I’ll just clean it up in the bathroom,” he said. The words were an ideal interpretation of the slurring he offered. The other man was confused as he made jumbled noises and stumbled in the opposite direction. By some miracle (and well-trained bouncers), he managed to get to his destination.

As he struggled with the sink, a slender hand moved over his to turn on the faucet. “Do you need any help?”

Yuuri turned to thank him. Though he was drunk as a skunk on New Year’s, he could not deny that this stranger was the most beautiful man he had ever seen.

***

Viktor wasted no time following Yuuri to the bathroom. He slipped a twenty into his accomplice’s hand on his way there, battling insects and scum for the chance to be by his side. The younger man was struggling with the sink and being the gentleman he was, he helped Yuuri out.

Yuuri turned to him, red-eyed and tears building up with thanks. He was redder than a cherry from all the alcohol and god, did Viktor want to eat him up.

“Thanks,” he slurred. He rubbed the stain on his pants sloppily and ended up soaking it more from not wringing the paper towel properly.

Viktor chuckled and grabbed the towel from his hand. Yuuri let him. He also let Viktor lift him up on top of the sink. Viktor squeezed the towel dry and started patting down Yuuri’s thigh. All the while, Yuuri remained silent as a doll. His obedience was not only appreciated but sexy.

“You’re such a good boy, aren’t you?” Viktor whispered.

Yuuri blushed harder. “Yeah…”

Viktor chuckled at the response. He moved his hand upwards until it reached Yuuri’s cock. He gave his groin a little squeeze. Yuuri moaned.

“Sensitive thing, aren’t you? I heard you’ve never been touched. Not even a little. Is that true? Has no one fingered that pretty, puckering hole of yours?” Viktor bent down to give his cock a little kiss. “The one hidden behind these obscene pants when you were dancing? You were shaking your ass so well, I thought you were begging for cock. I thought there was no way this pretty slut could be a virgin. Seeing how you’re reacting now, I know that’s not true. You’re a good boy. You have no idea how to touch a man, do you?”

Yuuri whimpered. He reluctantly nodded as Viktor continued his teasing. He should have wondered how this stranger knew so much about him, but he was too distracted by the loud music, the alcohol coursing through his veins, and the man’s scent invading his nostrils and playing with his head.

Once his pants were long forgotten, Viktor wrapped one arm around Yuuri’s waist and led him outside.

“W-where are you taking me?” Yuuri asked, his nerves acting up when self-preservation was lacking.

“To a private room,” Viktor answered easily. “You’re so cute; I just want to get to know you. It’s too loud here.”

“It’s not that loud,” Yuuri muttered. He was unable to refuse the man outright. The stranger was just too beautiful. Yuuri could hardly believe someone this attractive was even talking to him let alone calling him cute and asking for his time. 

Viktor smiled, but his expression was sinister. He caught the eye of the DJ and gave the nod to turn the music up. The pounding bass made Yuuri’s head spin.

“Too loud, right?” Viktor shouted in his ear.

Yuuri winced. He clutched onto Viktor’s hand and agreed to follow him wherever. Once they were inside one of the many personal rooms, Viktor offered him another drink from the personal mini-bar.

Yuuri was about to refuse when Viktor handed him a drink.

“Try it. I believe they call it a ‘sex on the beach’ here,” Viktor teased. “One of the many things I’d think you’d be good at.”

Yuuri flushed at the compliment. He shook his head and told him he’d be mistaken but took the drink nonetheless. “I don’t…I’ve never done that stuff…”  Viktor bit his lip in pleasure. Masumi’s boy toy was right. Yuuri’s red cheeks deserved a layer of cum.

Viktor giggled in delight. His head was muddled with dirty thoughts as of late. All thanks to that perfect boy sitting on the couch. He poured himself a glass of wine before bouncing on the seat beside Yuuri. The drink in Yuuri’s hand shook. To avoid wasting it, Yuuri sipped it more quickly. Viktor watched his tongue flicker out to collect the drops. The sight left Viktor rejuvenated. “Well, there’s always time for that,” Viktor said slyly. He moved closer until Yuuri was practically in his lap. “I suppose I should introduce myself. I’m Viktor Nikiforov.”

“I’m Yuuri Katsuki,” he answered. A few seconds had passed before he recognized the name. “Oh you’re the Viktor Nikiforov! The one this party is for!”

Viktor smiled—it was an unreadable expression caught between amusement and caution. “You’ve heard of me?”

“Phichit told me about you!” Yuuri sounded so cheerful. “He says you’re very important.”

“Is that all he told you?”

“Yep! And that you’re starting another company here,” Yuuri answered. “That’s so nice. It must be nice to be so successful. You’re nice, Viktor.”

Viktor chuckled. That’s not a word he heard every day.

“That’s good,” Viktor said to himself. “But enough about me. What about you? Where are you from? What do you like to do?”

Yuuri took a larger gulp of his drink. He was almost done already, but he craved more. The inebriation made him bold and chatty, and Viktor liked this side just as much as he liked the shy beauty he encountered in the bathroom. Yuuri Katsuki was a feast for kings, and Viktor intended to be the emperor of the world.

“Oh, there’s nothing much about me,” Yuuri said. “I’m from Japan; a place called Hasetsu…” Yuuri recited a lovely story of familial devotion and friendship; Viktor soaked up every word, watching Yuuri’s face to see what made him smile the biggest. It was not long before Viktor gained his entire background and an invitation to his parent’s hot springs.  

“Hmm…” Viktor hummed. “I would love to join you in those hot springs.”

“I hope you do!” Yuuri chirped. “I used to say that the ideal day had morning ice-skating, katsudon whenever I liked, and a soak in those springs at night. You would love it.” 

Viktor was about to agree when his eyes perked up. “You like ice-skating?”

Just when he thought Yuuri could not get any more perfect, Yuuri nodded his head, making him simultaneously dizzy and entertained. “I’m here on an ice-skating scholarship. It’s off-season, though, but I train when I can. It’s my favorite thing in the world!”

“Mine too,” Viktor agreed with a dopey smile. The Russian was glowing with glee. Yuuri was not only beautiful, he shared Viktor’s interests and would share his first time with Viktor. The Russian could barely contain his excitement. He wondered how he could ever let the boy go after having a taste of him. His mind became befuddled. Should he plan for the long haul, drive him into a corner and isolate him from his friends and family, or should he be more straightforward and lock Yuuri up until the boy was conditioned into his love slave? The possibilities were endless.

Viktor was so distracted with the newfound news that he ended up splashing his wine over his pants. The action excited Yuuri. “Here, let me help!” Yuuri got on his knees to search for a napkin or a cloth and the sight made Viktor quiver.

A bright idea came to Viktor’s mind. He slowly undid his zipper as not to alarm Yuuri. “Yuuri, my pants are fine. I can always buy a new pair. But there’s something else I need you to clean up. Something I can’t buy.”

“Like what?” Yuuri asked, wide-eyed as he looked up to Viktor from the ground. He looked so innocent but his bottom suggested otherwise. Its massive weight dragged Yuuri to the floor; his butt expanded to twice its size from Yuuri was standing. Viktor’s cock twitched. The butt made Viktor want to go to church and thank God for its magnificent beauty.

“Well, I’ve seen to have gotten wine over my cock. Can you clean it for me?”

Yuuri turned red and breathless. “Isn’t that a little in a...in ap...bad?”

“Didn’t you say you wanted to take care of the mess?” Viktor countered. “My cock is all wet.” Viktor was dripping in pre-cum. He stuck his hand inside his pants. He was ready to bust a load inside the boy or at least, gag him until he splattered his jizz over his face. Both options were commendable.

Yuuri trembled. “I just…I have to look for a napkin or a tablecloth or…”

“Use your mouth.”

“Huh?” Yuuri found himself growing more and more confused.

Viktor grinned. “Use your mouth. The wine is quite good and it’ll be a waste if you wiped it up. So come here and let’s see that tongue of yours get to work.”

Viktor was still smiling, not an ounce of ill-intent or malice appearing on his face. Either way, the Japanese boy would not have noticed. Yuuri had taken off his glasses. It made him more disoriented when he couldn’t see properly and with the alcohol acting up, some part of Yuuri’s brain shut down, went on a break, died. It decided that it didn’t want to think or make a rational decision tonight. Yuuri wanted to be unencumbered. He wanted someone to tell him what to do.

So he placed his hands on the side of Viktor’s legs and stared that monster down. It was so big, Yuuri wondered. He wondered how long it would take to clean it off.

“Open up those plump lips, baby.”

Yuuri gulped. He licked his lips, and they were impossibly wet. He was drooling. His mouth opened up on its own, and he accepted the hot length inside.

Viktor groaned. Forget cleaning, the boy was gobbling his cock up like he was starving. Viktor began to thrust, careful not to push into Yuuri’s throat. He wanted to come before the gag reflex kicked. As Yuuri got used to the sensation of a cock in his mouth, the boy began to clean it up. He licked the sides and ran his tongue up and down like a window cleaner. He wrapped his tongue around it, sucked him dry whenever the pre-cum poured.

With a sigh of satisfaction, Viktor increased the speed of his thrusts. He made curt jabs into Yuuri’s mouth, admiring how the tenseness made his gums rub against his cock. It was not long before he started to aim for Yuuri’s throat. Viktor was a great businessman but he was never a model of self-control. He started to force his cock as far down as Yuuri could muster. The gag reflex only made his throat clench around his cock. Viktor threw his head back in pleasure.

Fuck, that was so fucking _good_.

Viktor grabbed Yuuri’s hair and tried to continue the sensation by pulling him harder. Viktor started panting from the sensation of Yuuri’s choking. He could feel his cock getting bigger, stretching Yuuri’s throat like it was a cunt. He looked down and saw the boy’s eyes clouded with lust. Viktor could have come right there. He quickly took his cock out to let Yuuri have some air but to his delight, the Japanese boy chased after it. He leaned forward and sucked it all in again.

This time, Viktor could not control himself. He dug his fingers into Yuuri’s hair and with a shudder, came deep down Yuuri’s throat.

Yuuri moaned around the cock in his mouth. A natural cocksucker, Yuuri swallowed every bit of it.

“Fuck,” Viktor swore. He watched Yuuri gulp down his semen. “You are so good, baby. I’m going fill you up until you have a belly full of my cum.”  

Despite what just happened, Yuuri was not finished cleaning up Viktor’s cock. There were traces of cum all over it. He lapped up the shaft and cleaned up the tip before Viktor stopped him. A hand still gripped in his hair, Viktor pulled him up towards him. 

To Yuuri’s surprise, Viktor forced him into a kiss. He ravished Yuuri’s mouth as he pleased and only let go to see his worn out expression. Yuuri was panting when they parted.

“Why did you kiss me?” Yuuri whispered, dazed but not at all distressed.

“It was a reward,” Viktor replied, the same easy smile accompanying his words.

“For what?” Yuuri tilted his head in confusion.

“For having the most perfect lips on the planet,” Viktor answered before pulling him into another kiss. The compliment did something to Yuuri, who continued to let the man do as he pleased but with more enthusiasm.

Viktor could sense the alcohol wearing off; the only thing impairing Yuuri’s judgment was his arousal. It was effective but not enough for what he had planned. Viktor needed to get the boy home before sobriety made him doubt Viktor. He was about to suggest they leave when Yuuri sucked his neck, forcing Viktor to grab a handful of Yuuri’s side. The flesh was thick and milky in his hands. Having so much cushion all around his body made him a much more pleasant kissing partner. Viktor moaned and continued to make out with Yuuri for another few minutes. He could afford it, he told himself.

***

A risk must be worth the reward and Viktor’s decision to linger was worth Yuuri’s compliance. Yuuri purred when Viktor offered to take him home. His endorphins clouded his brain and their perverse cleaning made Yuuri eager for more. While there was something egging in Yuuri’s head, reminding him of something far off but important, he could not concentrate with the way Viktor’s hands slipped into his pants and fingered his hole. He wanted something inside him—something _bigger_ than a finger.

Viktor acted swiftly. His goal was to avoid Yuuri’s pimp at all cost. The latter proved impossible for as soon as they neared an exit, Phichit shouted out Yuuri’s name from across the club; his voice breaking sound barriers. 

Though his cock pulsed and his holes ached for a dicking, there was some common sense left in him. Yuuri turned around to check who called for him. The sight of Phichit struggling through the crowd sparked Yuuri’s memory. He was about to recall his friend’s rules when Viktor shoved him out the door. He told his bodyguard, Georgi to take him into the car while he took care of business.

“And don’t let him pick up his phone,” Viktor warned.  

Georgi nodded his understanding.

As soon as Yuuri was outside, Viktor sent a quick text to his men to take care of the raging Thai boy. It was not long before Phichit was blocked by a team of burly Russians. Satisfied by the roadblock, Viktor made his way to the door. He caught a glimpse of Phichit before he left and there was murder on his face.

***

When Viktor arrived at the limo, Yuuri was fighting Georgi for phone privileges.

“Please…Georgi, I just want my phone…please…” Yuuri crawling towards Georgi like a ravenous cat, shaking his ass in the air while hands were on the other man’s lap. Georgi tried his best to keep the phone out of arm’s reach but the way Yuuri was prowling, it wouldn’t be long before he failed. With a glare, he grabbed Georgi by the collar and pulled him outside the limo.

“Sit in the front,” he ordered. He climbed into the car and saw Yuuri pouting over his lost cellular.

“Viktor…” He whined. “I need my phone...! I have to call Phichit!” 

Viktor found out that he did not like having another man’s name on his lover’s lips. It made him practically murderous that Yuuri could be thinking of someone else besides him. To curb his intent, Viktor shoved their lips together while keeping a firm hand on the back of his neck. Yuuri whimpered into the kiss. When they parted, all that was left was a trail of saliva and Yuuri’s blissed out expression.

“I talked to Phichit already,” Viktor lied. “He’s agreed to let me have you for the night.”

“But I’m supposed to call him to make sure I’m alright. He has to hear my voice. Not your voice. _Mine_ ,” Yuuri lectured with a bit of sass intact. They were rules; Phichit told him. “You’re supposed to pay a fee or pay me or…” Yuuri took a moment to think. “You were supposed to do something. And I was supposed to call to say I’m safe and—” Yuuri was working himself into a flurry, trying to remember all the rules.

“Don’t you feel safe around me?” Viktor charmed. He leaned in for another kiss which Yuuri happily obliged. He loved any affection that Viktor could give him. Despite his quick thinking, Viktor understood the importance of moving the night along. “He said I needed to give you a down payment,” Viktor told him, trying to sound professional enough to convince Yuuri. He unclasped his watch and buckled it on Yuuri’s wrist. “Here, I want you to have this.”

There was a mild shriek from the front. “That watch cost over—”

Viktor pulled up the screen separating them. He focused on watching Yuuri who was in awe of the way the diamond sparkles. He leaned over to kiss his wrist all the way up his hand. Yuuri blushed. “Thank you, it’s the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen,” he said, almost dreamily.

Viktor smirked. “I know something else that is prettier.”

“Who?” Yuuri asked—right before he was flipped over on his chest.

Viktor tore off Yuuri’s pants and got a good look at his prize. He licked his lips at the prettiest hole he had ever seen, all puckering and twitching to get pounded. He’d be a cruel man to refuse.

Viktor’s hot breath was the only warning Yuuri had received before a tongue darted against the entrance. Yuuri yelped in shock and buried his face into the limo seat. His legs trembled but could not stop themselves from spreading apart, giving Viktor better access to his hole. He heard Viktor chuckle.

“You are just eager for it, aren’t you?” Viktor gave his hole another lick. Yuuri whimpered. “Come on, don’t hold back. I want to hear you scream my name.”

Yuuri’s instinct was to please. He unclenched his jaw and started letting out these little gasps of pleasure. Pleased with the change, Viktor returned his mouth to Yuuri’s backside and penetrated his hole with his tongue. Yuuri became a shaking mess. He wasn’t used to or ready for this sort of treatment. Viktor took his inexperience in stride; if anything, he craved Yuuri’s loss of reason. When he felt Yuuri clench around his tongue, he figured it was time for the next step.

Viktor grabbed a bottle of edible lube from his limo’s compartment. He took great pride in being prepared for all situations. He coated up his fingers and dribbled the gel into the hole.

Yuuri lost control when Viktor worked in a thumb alongside his tongue. He wailed loudly and started thrusting back onto Viktor’s face. He could feel Viktor smile against his ass. Viktor placed his second thumb and started spreading the hole open.

He slurped up the lube drenched hole and moaned when Yuuri’s fat ass jiggled on top of his face. He continued eating Yuuri out until he arrived to his house and stayed in the limo, driving Yuuri on edge, even after they arrived. When Yuuri finally came, his ass trembled and cushioned Viktor’s face. When Viktor finally parted from that perfect hole, he noticed how wide it was. It was more than open enough for Viktor’s cock.

Yuuri was perfect, Viktor cooed.

After being properly stretched, Viktor dragged Yuuri to his penthouse—it was located in one of his many residential investments and contained more security measures than Buckingham Palace. Yuuri was not given time to admire the magnitude of the place; he was dragged into Viktor’s bedroom as soon as he entered his home.

Yuuri stumbled onto the bed. Viktor was already undressing, eager to get a taste of that supple body he worked so hard on. He threw Yuuri’s pants across the room easily; their session from the limo reduce it to nothing more than shreds of fabric. His shirt was still on, but Viktor liked the way it stretched over his chest.

Viktor directed Yuuri against the headboard. “Hold up your legs,” he ordered. “Spread them wide so I can see your stretched out hole.”

Yuuri obeyed but a hefty blush on his face. “It’s embarrassing,” he moaned.

Viktor admired the way the hole clenched onto the air. It was still spread out, but the sphincter was desperate to close. Unfortunately, Viktor planned on ruining it for good tonight.

“I know, baby,” Viktor soothed. “But you’re going to feel so good once I get inside. You want my cock, don’t you?”

Yuuri meekly nodded. His hole twitched when Viktor’s cock drew near. “Wait!”

Viktor paused. His fingers clawed into the sheets. He didn’t want to scare Yuuri though and asked what the matter was. “Did you need another fingering?”

Yuuri gasped. “We…we have to use a condom!” Despite his earlier adjustments, Phichit’s words still linger in his mind.

A flash of irritation appeared on Viktor’s face. Yuuri whimpered but it was gone so fast, Yuuri thought he imagined it in the first place.

“Right! Oh, I’m sorry, let me get ready for you.” Viktor grabbed one from his dresser and sheathed his cock haphazardly. With another kiss, he pressed his tip inside and already, it felt so good, he felt _obscene_. Yuuri’s hole was more sensitive than ever. He dug his fingers into the sheets and lifted up his ass. Viktor gasped. Yuuri was stretching open up for him.

“Look at you,” The words were low and pleasing. “Look at that ass; that plump ass raised up and shaking like a bitch in heat. I wish you could see yourself. Your hole is puffy and open; it’ll look good leaking my seed. I’m so happy you’re a virgin.” He giggled, “I’m going to be the only man who ever gets to taste you. I’ll fuck you every day until you’ve forgotten how it feels not have my cock inside you. You’ll learn how to suck me the way I like and clench around me whenever I want. A pretty sex doll for my own uses. You won’t ever say no because I’ll never teach you how.”

After a whimper from Yuuri, Viktor sunk all the way in. The walls of Yuuri’s body squeezed around Viktor’s cock like the world’s tightest fleshlight. Viktor was sure his dick was being cushioned by a pair of pillows and his insides were hotter than a furnace. The lube was making Yuuri slick and creamy and Viktor wanted nothing more than to plow him until he was dripping with something else.

Yuuri was shaking underneath his hands. Viktor continued to move back and forth in short but harsh jabs. While Yuuri was clearly enjoying Viktor’s treatment, it was obvious there was some pain. Yuuri was a virgin and to be fair, Viktor wasn’t exactly _gentle_.

It was all the reason more not to pull out, thought Viktor. He continued to accelerate his movements. Yuuri was _his_ now; he had to learn how to take _his_ dick. Viktor picked up the rhythm, and Yuuri could only moan as his ass got used without mercy. Viktor mirrored his desire, Yuuri was exquisite and _powerless_ underneath his hands. He held onto Yuuri’s body as he snapped his hips in faster, harder, and watched his cock disappear into that perfect hole, squelching out the lube like it was a dripping cunt. Yuuri became boneless; he begged Viktor to continue using him.

“Ahh! More!” Yuuri screamed with hearts in his eyes. He clenched around Viktor’s dick, hoping to add more friction to his thrusts. He stopped reacting to anything that wouldn’t give him immediate pleasure. He was mindless for anything but Viktor. The victory was delicious but not enough.

Viktor wanted _more_.

Viktor pulled out his dick and flipped Yuuri onto his stomach. The boy wailed in displeasure. His head was muddled with thoughts of cocks and cumming, and tried desperately to get the cock inside him again. He arched his back to rub against Viktor’s cock. Viktor laughed and the sound warmed him. He gave Yuuri a gentle slap that made his ass jiggle. Yuuri yelped. Their fucking was driving Yuuri crazy; it took away all his thoughts except for the ones that urged him to come.

Viktor grinned. He took off his condom and reintroduced Yuuri’s hole to his cock. He warned Yuuri that he was adding more lube to smooth out the passage while his erection glistened with pre-cum.

“Yes! Yes! Just fuck me, please!” Yuuri begged. He pulled his cheeks far apart and was trying to maneuver the cock inside him. Viktor did not hesitate to stick his dick inside. He paused to appreciate the tight heat around his manhood. Nothing was better than going raw inside a virgin.

Yuuri shared a similar sentiment. If he was out of control before, he was completely gone now. He was panting and shivering, urging Viktor to start moving. To make him feel better, Viktor slammed his dick against Yuuri’s prostate, making him cry out in ecstasy. He was drooling all over Viktor’s bed; his pupils were turned into hearts from pleasure.

“Do you like this?” Viktor asked, continuously slamming into his prostate.

“Y-yeah!’ Yuuri agreed. In all honesty, he didn’t want to talk. He just wanted Viktor to fuck him. “You feel so much better in this position. Your cock is so much deeper, and I can feel it better. It’s so hot.”

“I’m happy you think so,” Viktor chirped. He leaned down to whisper in Yuuri’s ear. “I’m about to come. Can I do it inside you?”

Yuuri moaned his approval.

Viktor thrust into Yuuri with fervor. It wasn’t long before Yuuri was coming all over his sheets, screaming Viktor’s name. Hearing Yuuri say his name in worship was the sexiest thing Viktor ever heard. He emptied his balls shortly after and flooded Yuuri’s ass until it dripped over his bedsheets.

When they were finished, Yuuri was glued to the sheets by way of drool, semen, and sweat. Viktor was tuckered out as well. He clung to Yuuri’s body as they drifted into slumber. His soft cock was still lodged inside the younger man.

“That was perfect,” Viktor praised; he kissed Yuuri’s shoulder and snuggled closer. “I never want to let you go.”

Yuuri was almost too dazed to answer. He did, however, notice the wetness in his ass. “It feels something leaking out…” He asked, confused.

Viktor kissed his shoulder blade and trailed down his back. “It’s just all the lube I used. I wanted to make sure you were well-prepared. I’ll put some more if I decide to use you tonight.”

“Oh, that’s why…” Yuuri accepted before his eyes fell shut. Viktor grinned and slosh his dick inside Yuuri’s ass some more. He purred in delight. He couldn’t wait for the morning sex he had planned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Over 7000 words. Pretty proud of myself for completing this and therefore guaranteeing that my lateness is over. I am back on track.  
> Anyways, the sex scene in this was inspired by Sushipuri (Kanbe Chuji)'s work, NTR ~ Kawaigatte ita Kouhai ga Itsunomanika.  
> I hoped you all enjoyed it. Please leave behind your kind thoughts and requests for who you want to see soon.
> 
> Also, I do not tolerate rudeness of any kind. If you write something I don't like, I'm not going to respond; your comment is going to be deleted. Plain and simple. I deleted one already. It is one thing to dislike something or give constructive critique. It is another thing to curse at me and condescend me. I have added a Rape/Noncon tag. The reader Eliza who was quite respectful when she requested I work on the tags. 
> 
> Bottom line: if you act like a child, I'm going to assume you are one and you are not old enough to read my stories. Thank you.


	5. Chapter 5

Yuuri woke up to blurred lines and a vicious hangover that threatened to trap him on the bed. Once the splotches of black left his vision, Yuuri was able to comprehend that the room he was in was five times the size of his own, the sheets were the softest he’d ever laid in, and he was stark naked. Yuuri scrambled out of bed, landing head first onto the floor. He was unable to stand at first, given the pain in his bottom. His entire body was sore. He checked his backside, and his fingers brushed against his hole, causing an unfamiliar shiver up his spine. He bit his lips and moaned lowly, clearly enjoying the sensation. He began to play with his hole for a few seconds; his ears were relishing in the delightful ‘squelch’ as he fingered himself. When Yuuri retracted his fingers, the oozing liquid was glistening all over his hands. Distorted memories of last night came flashing back, and his confusion was quickly replaced by horror. He frantically climbed to his feet, ignoring the tenderness all over his body. When he dashed outside, he was immediately tackled by a huge dog.

“Oof!” Yuuri fell to the ground, adding more pressure to his already bruised bottom. The poodle lapped at his face. Yuuri tried to shoo the beast away, but it kept standing on his naked body; its limbs on all sorts of uncomfortable parts. If he wasn’t so adorable, Yuuri might have been more forceful. Instead, he found himself being suffocated by cuddles. 

“Makkachin, where did you—oh! You’re awake!” Yuuri heard a voice from above ask. He looked up and gasped. He flushed cherry red; a shade that only became darker when he realized his fleshy body was a fiery pumpkin on display. Someone might as well thrown a bucket of water on him and rolled him down a hill; that would have been less embarrassing! The only thing that made his humiliation worse was the sight of the man himself!

I slept with _him?_ Yuuri marveled; he was both amazed and terrified. The man before him was the most beautiful man—no, _human being_ —Yuuri had ever seen! Damn it, how was this possible? The utter gorgeousness of the stranger made Yuuri forget how to speak; hell, it made him forget that he had forgotten everything about last! Perfect body, perfect face, perfect _schlong_ , as indicated by the bulge in his briefs. 

Everyone who knew Yuuri knew he was a sucker for a beautiful man. It was one of the reasons Phichit was so concerned about him wandering off. His roommate made it clear that he was not to make any final decisions, no matter how handsome they are. Bodily autonomy be damned, Yuuri belonged to him for the night. “I swear, Yuuri. You’d get talked into sex slavery if the guy had high enough cheekbones.”

Looking at the man before him, Yuuri knew Phichit was right. He would have sold his soul for the chance to remember last night _._ The man was _that_ handsome. Oh, Yuuri could die. He wanted to have quick death and go to heaven where there was katsudon and ice-skating. He cringed as the man led his pet outside. He smiled at Yuuri, all gentle and charming and the expression made Yuuri swoon to the moon.

“I sent someone to get us breakfast. I’m not much of a cook, I'm afraid.” His English was tinged with an accent—not heavy but noticeable. God, his accent was perfect as well! Yuuri only blushed harder. “And your clothes are in the laundry. You can wear a robe from the bathroom and join me outside.” The stranger winked. “Of course, you don’t have to get dressed. I appreciate the view.”

“A-ah I-I gah ta ma no!” The gibberish flew out of his mouth, and the mention of his nudity sent Yuuri scrambling for the bathroom. As soon as he was there, he collapsed on the floor. He didn't realize how long he was holding his breath—he must have stopped inhaling when the Adonis started speaking. Being alone in the man's insanely large bathroom only made things worst. Phichit had a jacuzzi in his bathroom. This man had a tub the size of a small pool and jets on every corner! Yuuri’s chest constricted. His heart was pounding. He started heaving. The man was not drunk. The cheer in his voice indicated that he was not even hungover. That meant he was perfectly fine with the way Yuuri looked. He was getting _them_ breakfast which means he not only wanted Yuuri to stay but _expected_ him to. The facts overwhelmed his head and made his migraine turn into a tumor. 

Suddenly, Phichit’s voice popped into his head. “Of course, he expected you to stay. He paid for you, didn’t he?”

Yuuri’s eyes widened as the only clear memory from last night came back to him. Phichit. Chris. The club. _The rules._

_He broke the rules!_

Not only did Yuuri lose his virginity to a stranger, but he also abandoned his best friend at a party specifically planned for him! Yuuri couldn’t believe he was so stupid! Phichit warned him about leaving his sight; he made him swear not to go off with a man who wasn’t vetted by his friend. Phichit must be so worried!

Yuuri brushed his teeth—a packaged toothbrush was prepared for him, proving to Yuuri, once again that he lucked out with his one-night stand—and left the bathroom. He was not even an inch out of the door when he ran into his bedpartner.

The man latched onto his arm. “Great, you’re just in time for breakfast.” He pulled Yuuri into the living room where a beautiful meal was laid out. Fresh slices of honeydew and cantaloupe filled one bowl while red, blue, and blackberries filled another. There were piping hot waffles, three types of syrup, pitchers of orange juice and milk, over-easy eggs, and bacon—so much bacon. Yuuri drooled; his treacherous belly growled.

Viktor laughed at him and immediately, Yuuri had a face full of embarrassment.

“I’m glad you like my selection. Please sit. We have so much to talk about!”

“R-really?”

Did they? For all Yuuri knew, the man thought he was a club-goer fortunate enough to catch his good graces; what was worse was that Yuuri had no idea how he did it! Yuuri would admit— _under gunpoint_ —that he was cute, but he wasn’t a god like this man clearly was. This was not someone who had to _pay for sex_. He’d probably laugh if he learned that Yuuri wanted to become a sugar—.

“I have to apologize for our abrupt meeting. But you were begging me so prettily; I couldn’t wait to get you into bed!” The man cooed. “Please, would you prefer check or cash? I, myself, am a cash man.”

“W-what?” The Japanese boy halted the conversation. So the man knew? _And he wanted to pay for his time?_ Yuuri stared at the man in disbelief. “I’m sorry, I don’t understand? You want me?”

The silver-haired appeared more confused than he was. He pouted. “Of course I do. I thought we discussed it last night. Have you forgotten already?”

Yuuri turned red. He wondered if his skin was permanently flushed by now. “I…I’m sorry!” He blurted out. “I was drunk last night. I don’t remember anything at all. I don’t even…” Yuuri hung his head.” The man would think he was a whore after he confessed. “…I don’t even know your name.”

“Oh.” Yuuri looked up to see his disappointed expression. “So I took advantage of you? I’m so sorry!” The man dashed over and grabbed his hands. Yuuri was taken back by the gesture. The man’s eyes were sparkling in regret. “I hadn’t realized you were so drunk! You must think I’m a monster!”  

Yuuri shook his head. If he had any more momentum, it’d snap off. “No! Of course not! It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have drunk so much. I must have caused you so much trouble.”  

The man smirked. Without Yuuri’s glasses, the smile looked malicious.

“No trouble at all. Your company was exactly what I needed." His cheer returned at full force. "We should start over, shouldn’t we? I’m Viktor Nikiforov.”

The name was another catalyst to Yuuri’s stationary memory. Phichit’s lecture reappeared in full volume. Yuuri gasped. Now, he was positive that Viktor made a mistake choosing him!  
“You’re Viktor Nikiforov?”

Viktor waited for Yuuri’s reaction. He wondered how he was going to play this game if Yuuri had an inkling of his identity. Last night, the boy implied that his knowledge was limited to his legal exploits; if that was the case, they could keep their relationship sweet, tender even. Viktor wanted to treasure his hoard, but if Yuuri proved to be difficult, the Russian didn’t mind using a firm hand.

“B-but!” Yuuri shouted. “Why are you—why did you come home with me? I’m just a nobody!” 

Viktor sighed in relief. The boy knew nothing; he would have been more afraid if that weren’t the case. Viktor had to chuckle; Yuuri’s pimp must have never intended them to meet if he kept his friend completely in the dark. He was glad Masumi gave him the heads up to avoid the middle man.

“A nobody?” Viktor pretended to be shocked. “You were the most beautiful thing at the club, Yuuri! The way you were dancing and grinding up against me…” Viktor sighed, admiring the way Yuuri’s eyes widened in shock. “I had to fight the men off you. I was so happy when you chose to come home with me. It cost me an arm and a leg, but let me tell you—” Viktor leaned down to Yuuri’s ear. “Listening to you beg for my cock was worth every diamond. I was willing _to kill_ to have you in my bed.”

Yuuri turned away. He was flattered; more so than he'd ever been in his entire life and that was enough to keep him from noticing the rather threatening tone that Viktor ended on.

To salvage his sanity, he glanced around at the room. “I-I have to call Phichit,” He told him hastily. “I-I think I left before telling him. Do you know where my phone is?”

There were two ways Viktor could play this. He could use the same excuse from last night and inform Yuuri that Phichit approved of their arrangement, or he could make up another excuse to prolong their time alone. _Contract free_. Viktor needed the weekend. Yuuri was still innocent and the more inexperience he was, the easier it would be to mold Yuuri’s tastes to his liking.

“Who’s Phichit?”

Yuuri stopped looking for his phone. In addition to his customary embarrassment, Yuuri appeared _ashamed_.  “He’s my friend,” Yuuri explained. “He was supposed to set up the arrangement between me and my…” Yuuri paused, and Viktor was tempted to fill in the blanks with an ugly, _dirty word_ that made the Japanese boy feel like a whore. “ _Daddy_.” 

There was a pause. Viktor pursed his lips in disapproval. He’d seen the look on Yakov a million times. “You mean he’s your _pimp_.”

The disgusting word did wonders to Yuuri’s self-esteem. The boy _trembled_ and his eyes got _glossy_. Viktor licked his lips. He decided then and there that no matter what he had to do or say, Yuuri was _his_.  Viktor was not just going to have him; he was going to _own_ him. Viktor would promise this young man a chateau, diamonds, an island; fuck, he’d give him the moon and marriage if that was what it took, but he was going to have Yuuri on his knees with Viktor’s cock rutting down his throat and dried cum crusted all over his chubby body; Yuuri was going to go to school with a giant dildo thrusting in his ass and belly full of cum each morning.  

“Yuuri, if you’re having money problems…” Viktor closed his eyes. He tried to look concerned, but it was hard to maintain while he was envisioning Yuuri’s ass bouncing on his cock. “I can help you. You don’t need to resort to… _that line of work_. I can’t believe someone would be so horrible as to—”

“Phichit is a great friend!” Yuuri proclaimed, every bit as confident as he was on the pole. “And I’m not a prostitute!” That one was more reluctantly stated, but it contained every bit of heat and volume as the first statement. 

Viktor was taken back. He hadn’t expected such a fierce defense. He saw the determined twinkle in Yuuri’s eye and found himself more pleasantly surprise than disappointedly alarmed. He may have pegged the boy wrong, but unlike his past lovers, he was curious to see what else he could learn about him.

“Phichit was doing me a favor,” Yuuri explained. “I’ve been having money problems and he offered me a job, or well, he suggested I become a _sugar baby_ and…” Yuuri spilled the entire story. Viktor listened with rapt attention; he planned on utilizing every detail for their future together. When Yuuri finished, it took all of Viktor’s power not to smirk.

He settled for a sympathetic smile that masqueraded a giggle. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have assumed but I thought you were an independent worker. You even said that my watch was enough to cement our relationship.”  

“Your watch?” Yuuri glanced over at his wrist. The sight of the diamonds caused him to jump several feet in the air; a major contrast to a lovelorn unicorn dazed by the sparkles. “I-I can’t accept this! H-how much is this even worth?” It was at least a thousand dollars if Phichit’s jewelry collection was to be held as the standard.

Viktor hummed thoughtfully. “It was a gift from a former client. I think the appraiser priced it at a 150,000?”

“A-a h-hundred a-and f-fifty?” Yuuri became white as a sheet. He looked at the watch as if he was wearing a bomb. “Y-you g-gave me a watch worth a _house_?”  

Viktor laughed. “A cheap house. I thought it was a bit low considering I took your virginity. If you want to talk about it, I am more than open to negoti—”

A loud ‘thud’ interrupted his sentence. “—ation.”

Viktor was surprised to see Yuuri’s form groveling on his marble floors. The boy was not unconscious but rather in a half-dead state of self-revulsion. Eager to move on with his morning, Viktor gently lifted Yuuri up and placed him on the nearby couch. He was not going to be denied a delicious breakfast with a pretty boy just because the boy in question was not in his right mind.

That certainly did not stop him last night.

“How about we stop talking about something as dirty as money and have a delightful breakfast instead? I’m starving!” Viktor placed a chaste kiss on Yuuri’s lips; the affection was received wonderfully, opening up Yuuri’s senses the slightest but not enough to reawaken any needless worries.

The boy blushed so prettily, too, Viktor admired. It was like having a living doll.

Viktor left him to grab two plates of food—Viktor made sure to fill Yuuri’s up with plenty substance. He liked his baby _soft_. It made him feel like putty in his hands. Viktor sat down next to Yuuri and offered to feed him.

“I want you to enjoy the food properly; you won’t do that if you’re acting like a scared piglet. Here, eat.” He lifted up his fork. “Don’t think about anyone else but me,” he ordered. His eyes were gleaming. Viktor stuffed a bite into Yuuri's mouth. Yuuri chewed instead of responding. The waffles were mouthwatering, and the strawberry’s juices spilled down his chin. Viktor fed him bite after bite until his entire plate was clear. Then, he got him seconds. Viktor never touched his plate until Yuuri commented on it.  

With a ditzy smile, Viktor chomped on his own meal, humming along like a child. Yuuri couldn’t help it; he was moved by what a wonderful person Viktor was. He bought Yuuri food, made sure he ate, was willing to help him out when he thought Yuuri was in trouble. Phichit warned him about all the horrible people who would try to trap him and here he was: in the arms of a man who was handsome and kind and wanted to take care of Yuuri.

When Viktor finished his share, Yuuri was about to thank him for the food. The older man stopped him by pulling him in for a kiss.   

“Umph!”

Yuuri reflex was to push Viktor away, but the older man was too strong. Closing his eyes, Yuuri melted into his arms. He let Viktor ravish his mouth and slip his hands into his robe until it was spilling off his shoulders. Eventually, Viktor let go of him to take an eyeful of his doll’s debauched appearance.

“You are beautiful,” Viktor praised.

Yuuri blushed. “The breakfast was great!” He blurted out. Without any response, Yuuri reverted to the simple topics. “I…haven’t eaten anything that good in a while. I mean, I don’t eat out often.”

“I prefer home cooked meals myself.” Viktor ran his finger down Yuuri’s chest. “I trust you’ll provide.”

Yuuri stuttered before nodding. Viktor grinned.

“Good.”

Gaining more confidence in the manner, he told Viktor that he could talk about it with Phichit. It was meant to be taken as a joke—and really, he should have left humor to the professionals—but he recommended Viktor put it in their contract. “I can be a part-time housewife.”

Viktor tensed and smiled, but he didn’t laugh. He rather they not talk about Phichit at all.  

“Since you’re awake, how about we get to know each other better? I learned a few things last night, but I definitely need to know more if I’m going to be a good daddy.”

Yuuri looked away with flaming ears. “I think you’re pretty wonderful already,” he admitted shyly. Phichit told him not to look too eager. He failed.

Viktor caught his desire immediately. He leaned in and started kissing Yuuri’s neck, enjoying the little gasps the younger man made. Viktor shivered and laid Yuuri on his back. He parted his  legs and squeezed his thighs, releasing a low moan from Yuuri’s throat. Fuck, it was a symphony of pleasure. Viktor wanted to hear more; he pressed a finger into Yuuri’s hole.

Yuuri gasped. “V-Viktor, please…”

“You’re still wet from last night.”

Yuuri trembled harder. “Viktor, your _thing_ …it’s poking me…”

“Shh…” Viktor soothed. “It’s okay. You don’t have to pretend to be so innocent with me.” Viktor ground his cock in between Yuuri’s cheeks. Pre-cum dripped out of Yuuri’s cock, and Viktor used it to increase the liquid gushing between Yuuri’s thighs.

“You’re so lewd, Yuuri. All I did was press my cock against you, and you’re already dripping wet. But,” Viktor laughed. “I shouldn’t be surprised. Last night, you were begging for my cock inside you. You wanted it raw; you begged to be stretched out and filled up. I came five times.” Viktor laughed. “You must be gushing.”

“Viktor!” Yuuri sobbed.

Viktor slipped a finger in him. Yuuri went crazy; he sank all the way down on the finger and asked for more. Viktor obliged with two. He started thrusting them in, making short jabs against the prostate. Not enough to get him off but enough to leave him wanting.

“Tell me, Yuuri. Tell me what you want, and I’ll give it to you. All you have to do is ask and I.” Viktor jabbed his fingers in with each word. “Will. Make. You. Mine.”

Unable to see beyond the lights in his eyes, Yuuri spread his ass further apart, revealing a finger stuffed, twitching hole. Just a little, Yuuri thought, humping those fingers as hard as he could. Just a little bit more and he’d be okay. 

“Will you f-fuck me?” Yuuri asked. He sounded so sweet despite his vulgarity. 

Viktor chuckled. “Yes, baby. I can.”

And he did.

Viktor lined his cock against Yuuri’s hole and thrust in with one solid stroke. The motion made Yuuri wail. Viktor wished he could have been more gentle but Yuuri was hotter than a bitch in heat and frankly he couldn’t resist leaving such an eager hole unused. As soon as he was inside, Viktor closed his eyes and soaked up the goodness; he’d forgotten how good Yuuri felt. The former virgin was still tight despite the poundings he received last night. Moreover, he was hot and _slick_. Viktor stuffed his pretty little whore full with cum, and it made him wetter than a pussy. Yuuri squirmed and whined, clenching onto the cock and sucking him further inside.

There was no more foreplay after that. Viktor started slamming into Yuuri’s hole and using the boy as his personal fleshlight. Yuuri’s eyes were unfocused, his pupils were dilated and his tongue was sticking out, panting. He kept telling Viktor to fuck him while he pushed back onto his cock, egging him on for more. Viktor realized that if he fucked Yuuri every day, he could keep the boy filled like a cum dumpster at all times.

It was a delicious sight, thought Viktor.

“Please,” Yuuri cried out. “Please, I want more. Please. Just fuck me more. I want your cock; I want you to go harder.”

Jesus, Yuuri was insatiable when he was getting fucked. Viktor growled. He picked up his pace, fucking Yuuri faster, pumping back and forth into his ass and jabbing into his prostate haphazardly. He loved the cushion of Yuuri’s cunt around his cock. He kept hammering away until he felt the stirring of an orgasm. He clutched on Yuuri’s hips and came, adding another load into Yuuri’s ass. The young man was already full from his breakfast and the extra cum made him feel _stuffed_.

Viktor slumped over him, breathing heavily. Yuuri whined in contentment. When Viktor pulled out of him, his soft cock bumped against Yuuri’s growing erection.

“How are you…?”

Yuuri didn’t let him finished his sentence. He tossed his limbs all over Viktor and urged him for another kiss and more fucking. Viktor swore he saw hearts in his eyes. “More,” he begged. “Use me some more, I want your cock, please…” The boy was barely there. He stuck out his tongue for more kisses, acting every bit the whore he looked like.

Viktor indulged his whims and pulled him into a kiss. Yuuri crawled into his lap and bounced on his cock, his fat cheeks slapping against his balls. “You’re going to give me more, won’t you, Viktor?” The sweat slicked backed Yuuri’s hair and gave him a more lustful appearance. He reminded Viktor of a wood nymph dancing between the trees; his arousal calling for a cock. Yuuri grabbed Viktor’s hands and sucked on his fingers. It looked almost as good as Yuuri’s lips wrapped around his cock.

Almost.

“You’re just made to be a whore.” Viktor teased thoughtfully. He immediately retracted his fingers and got up. Yuuri objected to the move; he followed the older man, clinging onto his wrist like sex slave's leash. Viktor led them to his bathroom for a nice, long bath. Out of nowhere, Yuuri licked his ear. Viktor groaned; he couldn’t wait to get started on his training.  

 ***

Phichit was superhumanly strong when he became hysterical. Despite his vicious threats, endless connections, and ample possibilities for blackmail—no one was willing to talk to him about Viktor Nikiforov; the asshole who kidnapped his friend. He lifted up his seashell embedded, two-hundred-pound table and threw it across the apartment with a bearlike roar.

Finally, after cashing a few dozen favors, all signs led him back to Masumi, who swore he didn't know a thing. Liar. Phichit pounded on the keys. The man would be canoodling with Chris, halfway between kinky bliss and even kinkier pain. Phichit knew that he loathed interruptions during their naughty times. Phichit happily dialed the number. He used his emergency phone—the only number that reached his boys, even when their phones were on silent.

Chris picked up. Without even waiting for an introduction, Phichit regaled the entire kidnapping incident and his campaign against said kidnapper. Out of loyalty and concern, Chris did not respond. Instead, what came after the silence was a soft, lighthearted, “Masumi, it’s for you,” followed by the distinctive sound of a phone being thrown at someone’s unprotected dick.

“Phichit, please don’t—”

“Where the fuck is my friend?”

Masumi sighed. “I can’t answer that.”

“Why? Are you more scared of getting into trouble from your boss than me chopping off your dick? Because I will. Or,” Phichit grinned evilly—a pointless expression for their conversation was purely aural. “You can kiss your plans for an exclusive contract goodbye.”

“Phichit, be reasonable,” Masumi pleaded. There was an echoing on his side of the phone. He must have left the room. “Viktor is one of my most _distinguished_ clients.”

“So I’ve heard. And now he has Yuuri.” Phichit glared though no one could see him. It felt wasteful. “I hope you know that I’m glaring at you right now.”

“I figured.”

Phichit rubbed his temples. “I specifically told Yuuri to run all guys by me. And everyone at the club should have known who I was.”

“Viktor is new in town and Yuuri was drunk…”

“He still should have known!” Phichit was tired of all these excuses. “I booked him a private room under my name. I have a _reputation_.”

"You're a pimp masquerading as a college student, not exactly noteworthy." 

"Are you trying to start something?" 

“No!" Masumi shouted. "I have no idea what happened.” Masumi glanced over at his own phone. He needed to clean it immediately, in case Chris or anybody else looked. Chris was already suspicious; he was there when Masumi ran into Viktor and he saw Viktor’s attraction to Yuuri.

To manage his discretion, Masumi glanced into the living room where Chris was waiting. He was on the floor, playing on his phone while his cat bounced on his ass. Masumi wished he was that cat. It led such a carefree life, bouncing on butts and meowing at cute blondes. Instead, he had to deal with a murderous man-child who thirsted for innocence and big bottoms.

“Listen,” Masumi said in a rushed whisper. “I can’t risk my life nor my career for this pursuit. I can, however, lead you to someone who can. He can connect you to Viktor without consequences. Just don’t do anything drastic.” Masumi winced. “I can’t promise you he’ll tell you anything, though. You need to rely on your own persuasion for that.”   

Phichit agreed to the deal. “Who is he?”

“His name is Yuri Plisetsky. He…”

“Say no more. I can get him to talk.” Phichit interrupted.

Masumi paused. “He’s a little volatile.”

“I am aware. We’ve met. He owes me.”

“…are you serious?”

“Yes.”

“How did you get that demon child to owe you a favor?”

“I hooked him up with a gorgeous bottom. That’s my specialty.”

Masumi gaped; Phichit remained unaware. “Listen, I know his address. I’ll contact him right away. Thanks for your help.” He hung up and grabbed his purple coat. He was about to get some answers.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lesson from this story: everyone is a liar and Yuuri is a natural hoe.  
> Last chapter was my most reviewed chapter so far (yay) and also my most controversial. I added the rape tag because of concerns from a few commenters. I also deleted a comment about the matter that I considered quite rude and almost didn’t add a tag because I wanted to spite them. I did because another person was respectful so I decided to do it for them.  
> With that being said, I have another announcement:  
> HIATUS ALERT  
> Yes, the dreaded hiatus message. I will be gone from May 14th-June 11th. I'm going on a family trip before my sister leaves for college, my focus will be on spending time with them. Once that’s over, all chapters will be updated at a regular time.  
> I have posted a schedule for [here](https://twitter.com/CheshireSua/status/861118119032479744)  
> With this at your disposal, use it and love it.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yuri/Otabek smut in the beginning. ♥

There was a time in Otabek’s life when he couldn’t go to class without scratch marks on his back.

Despite his angelic appearance, Yuri wasn’t satisfied unless he had it rough. He was a biter. He wanted to roughhouse. He was vulgar and uncouth, calling Otabek horrible things like “cumslut” and “fucktoy” when they fucked. His sexual sadism worked on a spectrum. Sometimes, he simply enjoyed looking at Otabek in scandalous costumes, police uniforms or a steward’s dress. Other times, he made Otabek wear a vibrator with a tail attached to it and forced him to parade around the apartment, meowing for release. The outfits never lasted very long. At one point or the other, Yuri usually covered them up in his cum or ripped them to shreds.  

Otabek indulged him because he loved Yuri’s ferocity.  

And maybe, he just liked being told what to do.

“Bend over the table,” Yuri growled. He slapped Otabek’s ass once and did so again. Otabek hurried over the marble furniture, displaying his pink, twitching hole.  

Yuri groaned from behind him. Otabek pressed his face against the table to hide his smirk. Yuri was a sucker for submission.

One of Yuri’s fingers touched his hole and Otabek winced.

“That hurt?”

“Just a little sore,” Otabek guttered out. They fucked all night before this. Afterward, Yuri ate him out for an entire hour just because he could. His hole was loose and raw and Otabek couldn’t do anything but take it.

Yuri pushed his thumb further in. Otabek moaned. “You like it, don’t you? You like it when it hurts?”

You like it when it hurts, Otabek thought, but the retort rested in his head. He remained silent, knowing what a bad idea it was to tease the Russian when he was all strung up.

Otabek heard Yuri squirt some liquid onto his hands. He was adding more lube to his fingers.

Good, Otabek thought. He made the right decision.

Yuri slipped two fingers inside him, pushing more slick in as he did so. “Feels good,” Yuri muttered. “Feels hot. Like you’re on fire.” He curled his fingers and Otabek arched his back deliciously. When Yuri started pushing further in, Otabek groaned and bit into his arm to keep himself from screaming. Yuri retracted his two fingers and pushed back with three. Otabek pictured Yuri’s long, elegant fingers coupled with his newfound size. He was stroking Otabek’s prostate, and Otabek couldn’t help but rub his dick against the smooth table edge, whimpering like the whore Yuri paid him to be. Otabek became sick with sudden, desperate panic.

“I want it,” Otabek moaned, “Please.” He pressed his forehead to the table, the sweating sticking to the surface. His back arched and he lifted his ass without thinking. “I want it.”

The boy in Yuri turned giddy with excitement. He started thrusting his fingers more recklessly. “What do you want?” he asked. He tried to sound authoritative and commandeering, like his brother, but instead, he was too eager, _too_ _young_.   

Otabek found it terribly endearing.

"You," Otabek gasped out. "I want your cock. I want you." 

Otabek did not have to wait long. Yuri fucked into him in one move, so fast and hard that it took Otabek’s breath away. The older boy was shoved across the table with his thighs spread open. Yuri pushed his hips forward as he vigorously fucked into him.

“Your hole is as tight as a vice,” he growled out. “Best damn cunt I’ve ever had.”

Otabek could hear his balls slapping against his skin, how the smacks were echoing off the walls like drums. Coupled with the absolutely filthy, wet sounds of a cock plowing through his slick hole, made Otabek rolls his eyes to the back of his head. “Fuck,” he swore. “Fuck, fuck me harder,” he begged.

The pace picked up until Otabek saw stars. Otabek’s mind felt blissfully hazy. His hole clenched onto the intruding cock, trying to get the younger male to slow down. Yuri wasted no time rutting up into his ass with greedy, grunts of pleasure. 

“You’re the best cumslut I’ve ever had. You are always eager for it, aren’t you? Can you say that? Can you say you’re a fucktoy eager for cock?”

Otabek whimpered.

Yuri’s cock pressed deep inside, stuffed against his prostate without moving. It was both too full but not enough.

Otabek let out the voice he was holding. “I’m a cumslut,” Otabek muttered, red in the cheeks.

“What was that?”

“I’m a…I’m a slut. I love your cock…” Otabek tried to ground his hips against the cock but Yuri held him in place. “I love your cock. I want to be used. I want to be a fucktoy for your dick.”

His body burned and ached until Yuri, cock lodged firmly into his ass, started to pour his cum into his hole. The extra pressure against his prostate was just what he needed for his release. His dick shot out a string of cum over the floor, and he slumped and whined against the table.

When Yuri took his dick out, he was panting just as hard if not harder. He was a bigger mess than Otabek was and that made the college student sigh pleasantly. He liked pleasing Yuri. The boy was never satisfied with anything but Otabek’s company so it was always a source of pride for him that he could make the boy come undone.

Without warning, Yuri grabbed Otabek’s hair and dragged him to the floor. Otabek fell to his knees. Yuri’s large dick slapped his face.

“Clean it up,” he ordered. There’s a sharper edge to his command. Some of it is unreadable but there’s nervousness there. Two years hardened the boy a considerable degree. It explains his behavior with Otabek. Otabek was someone who knew him when he was a waif of a child and now he was desperate to prove he was a man. 

Otabek knew better than to refuse. He wrapped his lips around Yuri’s cock without so much as a nod. Yuri seemed taken back by the readied obedience. Otabek fought the urge to smirk. Instead, he twirled his tongue around the cockhead and licked the sides, making sure to moan loudly as he did so. The only time he took his mouth off was to relax his jaw, but he made sure to tell Yuri about how good his cock tasted.

Yuri paid him an enormous sum for giving him _exactly what he needs_. Yuri seemed to have forgotten that Otabek was the only one who could do that for him.

Otabek was not naïve. He understood that boys with Yuri’s power and wealth probably had their choice of whores. But he’d been in the business long enough to learn that there’s a reason why men chose to have the one rather than the many. Some boys are too obedient, some too defiant, some couldn’t read their client’s moods and some said the wrong thing at just the wrong time. Otabek was able to make Yuri want him so badly; he couldn’t dream of sticking his cock elsewhere.

When Otabek was finished cleaning up, he released Yuri’s cock with a loud pop.

Yuri groaned. “Get up,” he panted out. He was so flushed; it was the best fucking expression Otabek had ever seen. The Kazakhstani pressed his back against the table to face Yuri. Much to his amusement, the Russian giant slumped over his body in fatigue.

“Yuri?” he asked, making sure the tease on his tongue was disguised as curiosity.

“I’m just giving you a break,” he swore, “I’ll take your ass later,” he added. Otabek could see that his ears were red. It was cute. The teenager was so embarrassed from needing a break that Otabek could not bother to contradict him. Instead, he nodded and kissed the boy’s shoulder.

“Good, I needed one.”

Yuri sighed in relief.

Mila had the decency to wait until they were done to interrupt their session. Otabek imagined her at the door, pressing her ears for the sordid details of their coupling.

“Yuri!” Mila chimed in. “You have a guest!”

Yuri’s growled vibrated against Otabek’s skin. “Can’t you see I’m fucking busy? Tell them to fuck off.”

Mila clicked her tongue. “It’s Phichit. You know the rules.” She wagged her finger disapprovingly. “At least I was able to convince him to wait until you were finished. You're welcome.”

“I didn’t thank you, bitch.”

“It was implied.”

Otabek raised an eyebrow. “What does Phichit want?” He doubted it concerned his safety; Phichit wouldn’t have waited if that were the case—bodyguards or not.

Mila shrugged. “Ask him yourself.” Mila glanced at Otabek’s scandalous state and pursed her lips in contemplation. “Maybe I should ask him about hooking me up with someone. A cutie like Otabek would certainly make my night.” She shot him a flirtatious wink. Yuri grabbed a nearby lamp and threw it at her.

Mila blocked it easily, laughing as she left the room to get their guest.

To Otabek’s understanding, the only reason Phichit owned a suit was to display the professionalism men and women expected from their sexual procurers. Personally, he had only seen Phichit wear one to negotiations. Otabek distinctively remembered a time when the boy was given the opportunity to play host to the UN ambassador and Phichit arrived in cut-off shorts and an oversized sweater. Their dean was livid until the ambassador arrived the next morning in high spirits and a smile that never seemed to fade.  

Otabek wondered what was going when Phichit arrived in a sleek Prada suit, a long, blue Burberry coat, and a collection of rings on his fingers. Tiffany’s, probably. Phichit, the movie buff, was obsessed with the brand. He believed it was the quintessence of class.

“It’s called Tiffany’s, Otabek, not Tif _phony_.” 

Phichit took off his coat and rested it on the chair. He pulled out a seat for himself without being asked and folded his hands together on his lap. It was obvious he was waiting for hospitality. Knowing Yuri would not be privy to his silent demands, Otabek acted.

“I’ll go make some coffee,” he offered.

Yuri narrowed his eyes. He was about to refuse when Phichit spoke up.

“Thank you, Otabek. That’d be lovely. Just a dash of milk, please.”

When Otabek left the room, Yuri and Phichit were finally alone.

Phichit wasted no time for pleasantries. “I heard from a little bird that you are well acquainted with Viktor Nikiforov, is that right?”

Yuri furrowed his brow. 

“So what if I am?”

Phichit frowned. “He’s taken something of mine. Someone,” Phichit clarified. “Last night, I was indoctrinating a friend into the business, and it seems he caught the eye of Mr. Nikiforov. I can’t find them anywhere.”

Yuri grimaced but he continued to speak. For Phichit, that was a good sign. “Vitya’s not violent," Yuri pointed out. Not unless he was in a mood but Yuri doubted he would lay a hand on a whore. “And if you’re worried about your friend, don’t. He’ll be well-compensated in the end.”  

“That’s not the point,” Phichit snapped, a little too suddenly.

Yuri raised an eyebrow. 

Phichit sighed and took a deep breath. His beaming smile returned at once. “Yuri, this is not about money, this is about respect. There’s a reason I’ve been as successful as I am. I have a reputation for protecting what’s mine and the fact that Nikiforov can waltz into my party—”

“You invited him.”

“—and steal one of _my_ babies. Well, that hurts me. It hurts my reputation. It says to the world that someone can pull one over me in my territory and it says to _my_ boys and girls that they can be taken advantage and I can’t protect them.” Phichit glanced over to the kitchen area. He was sure Otabek was finished with the coffee and simply waiting for their conversation to be over to come out. “Do you think Otabek would be in the condition he’s in if I didn’t have his best interests at heart? Do you know how many close calls he ran into since you left him?”

Yuri clenched his fist. “What? Who?”

Phichit shook his head. “That doesn’t matter. _I_ took care of it. That’s my job. Now, you need to let me do my job and get me in contact with Viktor Nikiforov.”

A moment of silence passed between them. Otabek took the opportunity to return with the coffee. He rested one mug on Yuri’s side and then on Phichit.

“Thank you.”

Yuri nodded. “Thanks.” He took a sip, and it took everything in his power not stick out his tongue and swallow some ice.

“Even if I got you two together, what’s to say you would get anywhere? This is Viktor Nikiforov. He’s an m…major business man.”

Phichit pursed his lips at the cover-up. Fine, he thought. He could play along with the charade if the little kitten wants some yarn. “So am I,” he reminded. “And I’m sure we can reach a reasonable understanding.”

“That won’t end up with you in a ditch?”

Phichit did his best not to glare. Instead, he transformed himself into a less threatening figure. Wider smile and brighter eyes and a body that enchanted men to come hither. He seemed every bit the cherub he marketed himself as. “I’m not going to do anything to upset him. I just want to set up some boundaries for Yuri’s safety. I get it; Viktor Nikiforov is a very powerful man.” For sweetener’s sake, Phichit added that he was impressed by Yuri’s strength.

“I was told you were the only one brave enough to talk to him.”

Yuri scoffed. Soon, a cruel smirk appeared on his lips and it brought shivers to Yuri’s spine. “You want to know why that is?”

Phichit raised an eyebrow.  

“Viktor is my brother.”

Well shit.

Phichit recovered with a calm smile. He should have known this reason was why Masumi recommended Yuri. Family knew no bounds. He wondered how he was going to play now that he was essentially trying to convince a teenager to betray his own flesh and blood. Not the first time he'd done so but _still—_.

“We’re half-brothers,” Yuri informed. “Same mother, different fathers.”

“Oh.” Phichit was about to inquire more when Yuri continued.

“Everyone used to talk about how much Viktor was like his father growing up,” Yuri mused. “They looked alike. Talked alike. Had the same kind of charm that made people do anything for them. God help the fool who fell in love with a Nikiforov.” Yuri smirked but there’s something distant about the smile. Like he knew too well about what he was saying. “Even if you got to your friend, there’s a chance he might not want to leave. Viktor has a knack for making people believe they are happy, even when they are on fire. His father did that, too.”

Phichit winced. The review was exactly the type of shit that worried Phichit. The sooner he got to Viktor, the more sound his mind would be.

“Please,” Phichit pleaded sweetly. “Just a little conversation between two businessmen. That’s all I’m asking for.”

For the longest time, Yuri sat in contemplation. Phichit was tempted to bring out the big guns. He could sever the contract between Otabek and Yuri, forcing the former to become an independent contractor if he wished to continue with their relationship. It’s a cruel thing to do, given that Otabek relied on Phichit to manage his funds and keep his head above the law. Moreover, it was an empty threat. Phichit would never be so callous with his friend’s lives.

Yuri didn’t know that, though.

“I can set up a meeting tomorrow.”

Phichit looked up in surprise. “Seriously?”

Yuri shrugged.

Phichit jumped up. “Wonderful!" He did not look the gift horse in the mouth. None of that "what's in it for you" bullshit. Phichit would rather they get this done today, but beggars could not be choosers. It would give him more time to prepare. “When you’re done with the phone call, please make sure to contact me about the details. And to check on Yuuri’s wellbeing.”

“What?”

Otabek explained, “Yuuri is the name of our friend.”

Yuri growled. He grabbed the back of Otabek’s head and pulled him down for a deep, forceful kiss. “I’m the only Yuri in your life.”

Otabek nodded. “Of course,” he agreed before brushing his lips against Yuri’s temple.

Yuri purred like a kitten.  

Satisfied though hardly happy, Phichit got off his chair. “Try to contact me by tonight. For now, I’ll leave you lovebirds alone.” He waved them goodbye but neither noticed. “Sorry for interrupting! I'll subtract a few hundreds from this month and add it to the next as an apology.” Yuri did not care. He had more money than god and was clearly immersed with his new-old lover. 

When the door closed, Yuri got off the chair and shoved Otabek onto the couch. Otabek was completely naked except for the sweater that stretched right below his butt. Yuri grabbed his ass with both hands and spread those cheeks apart to admire the slow drip of his cum covering his fingers.

Otabek gasped. While Yuri licked his hole, Otabek noted something peculiar.

 “You were quite accommodating just now.”

 “Sit on my face,” Yuri ordered. “And I don’t want to hear you talking about another guy when you’re with me. It's a rule, remember?”

Otabek climbed up so that his groin was on top of Yuri’s mouth. Yuri let out a low moan of approval. He licked the underside of his cock and flicked his tongue against his balls. Otabek sighed in pleasure. He rolled his hips at a steady pace, rocking back and forth with pleasure. Preferring a less restrained lover, Yuri latched his lips onto his glans and sucked on it— _hard_. Otabek gripped onto the couch and grinded against Yuri’s mouth like his tongue held the secrets to heaven. When Yuri took a break, Otabek whined in distress. Yuri slapped his ass for his insolence, leaving another dark, red handprint for the younger boy to admire later.

“It’s been a while,” Yuri breathed out, “Since my brother’s been so passionate about something. If this friend of yours was kidnapped, that means I get to see Viktor off his A-game. Good. He gets too cocky sometimes. Does whatever he wants without a regard for me or our grandfather. And…” Yuri grinned like a villainous tiger. “I’ve never seen him lose. I doubt he’ll have any clue on how to deal with Phichit.” Especially since this was a young man he couldn’t afford to kill—not without losing his new toy in the process.  

Otabek took a deep breath. Before he could finish exhaling, Yuri’s tongue licked the rim of his ass and then dug deep; reaming him like he was licking off the crumbs of cake.

“Yuri!” Otabek gasped out. Unable to keep his original pace, Otabek rode Yuri’s tongue like a stallion. When Otabek’s release got closer, Yuri grabbed his hips and started pushing himself deeper inside. Otabek almost screamed.

At once, Yuri retracted his tongue. Smugness seeped into his pores when Otabek tried to grind against it some more.

“You know, sometimes my brother gets _too crazy_ about his things. It’s that blood of his. Pure poison. His father’s blood.” Yuri’s voice was low, and it was the most adult Otabek had ever seen him since they’ve met. Otabek's cock got harder. “My father was Viktor’s father’s lover. Our mother was his wife. Before his father died, he made them swear to marry each other if anything should happen to him. He didn’t care about their feelings; he was too selfish to let them move on. All he wanted was for the two people he loved to bounded by his memory. He had them, even in the grave. That's a Nikiforov for you.”

Yuri gave no warning when he flipped Otabek onto the floor. The older boy groaned and tried to get up but was held down by the weight of his lover.

“If I made you swear not to breathe a single word of this to Phichit, would you do it?’

Otabek grimaced and answered, “Yes.”

“Even if it threatens that _Yuuri_ of yours?”

Fuck, Yuri was jealous. That never ends well.

Trying not to sigh, Otabek reached forward to kiss Yuri. The boy sunk into the kiss, but tension remained on his shoulders. Otabek made sure to rest his head against the scruff of Yuri’s neck when they finished.

“You’re the only Yuri I need.”  

The Russian became putty in his arms.

***

Phichit thought that the most difficult thing about meeting Viktor Nikiforov was going to be not killing him. It turned out that the hardest thing about meeting the man was _pretending to like the bastard._ Because _fuck—_ Yuuri was absolutely smitten.  

Birds and flowers fluttered around the incoming couple. Yuuri walked into the restaurant, _hand in hand_ , with Nikiforov. He was wearing a sweet, beaming smile and a face flushed with giddiness. The man next to him, whom Phichit correctly assumed was Viktor, was no less content. He slowed down their arrival by occasionally leaning down and whispering into Yuuri’s ear, turning the boy cherry red with his words.

Phichit crushed the drink in his hand. The Thai citizen noticed that Yuuri’s clothes were new but well-fitted—meaning that at some point, Viktor either took Yuuri shopping or had someone buy the clothes for him. He was also wearing a new watch and new shoes. Gifts upon gifts upon gifts.

Nikiforov was marking his territory, Phichit grimaced. Viktor knew the game. The more he gave Yuuri, the more indebted his friend would be. Without a contract, Yuuri would feel like _he_ owed Viktor something, rather than the other way around. No boundaries meant no rights.

“Bastard,” Phichit murmured.

He hoped he wasn’t too late.

“Yuuri!” Phichit pulled the boy in as soon as the older boy got close. Years of faking orgasm made it easy to fake a smile. “I thought you died!” He made his declaration sound like a whine—not letting on that he was genuinely concerned about the _fucking sick pervert who stole his friend._ “Oh, I missed you so much! Our apartment was so lonely without you!”

Phichit smirked when he sensed the guilt radiating from Yuuri’s body. It was a clever tactic he used with his daddies. “I missed you” may make some daddies cringe— _clinginess was so unattractive_ —but other daddies, even if they get annoyed, loved the attention. Men hired boys like him to make them feel wanted. Right now, Yuuri knew he was wanted. He knew there was a way out if Viktor ever got too far. Viktor was not the prince in the story unless Phichit, the goddamn fairy godmother, said so.

The glower on Viktor’s face made his tongue salivate for more.

"Why didn’t you call me?” Phichit asked as soon as he pulled away. He had yet to acknowledge Viktor’s presence and would refuse to do so unless forced. Viktor was too proud to beg for attention so their introductions were stalled.

Yuuri turned red with shame. “Um…I was rather occupied.” Yuuri turned to Viktor with a shy, smile. Viktor grinned back. It would have all been very cute if not for the predatory gleam in Nikiforov’s eyes. The scene played out like a cartoon: while Yuuri’s back was turned, Viktor’s lambskin wore off and a wolf appeared, his fangs ready to sink into some cute, bunny behind. When Yuuri turned around, he was an herbivore; munching on flowers and sharing carrots.

Phichit waited for the inevitable meeting. He grimaced when Yuuri reached out for Viktor’s hand and pulled him forward. The Japanese boy acted like a daughter bringing home her boyfriend for the first time.

Phichit gagged a little.

“This is Viktor Nikiforov,” Yuuri presented. “He…he um…” Yuuri licked his lips. “Viktor, this is my friend, Phichit.”

“Pleasure to meet you.” Can’t wait to leave.

“Likewise.” Like hell.

The next thing Yuuri said made him turn tomato red before anything was spoken. “We got along very well the other night. He…um…he brought me to his house for my…services.”

Phichit raised an eyebrow but made sure to convey ‘pleasant surprise’ over ‘what the fuck, Yuuri?’ He was not going to let Nikiforov see him sweat. “Yuuri, I thought I told you I needed to vet them before anything happens.” Phichit made a ‘tsking’ noise and wagged his finger like he was scolding a child. “You know how dangerous that was. You could have gotten hurt.”  He glanced over at Viktor before returning to Yuuri. “You don’t even know him.”

“I would never hurt Yuuri,” Viktor interrupted. His eyes were glowing with confidence; he believed those words as much as Yuuri did. Too bad, Phichit didn't fall for lies so easily.

“While I’m sure that is the case,” especially if hell froze over, “This is a matter of safety. What if Yuuri met someone else that night? What if the next daddy—?”

“There will be no other daddies,” Viktor snapped.

Possessive already? That wasn’t a good sign.  Phichit waved off his declaration. “Regardless, this was a risky thing to do. You didn’t tell me where you were Yuuri. You could have been raped or killed. There’s a reason I asked you to call me. It’s so that if anything goes wrong, I can be there for you.”

Yuuri looked down, clearly ashamed of his actions. “I’m sorry.”

Viktor paused. His new lover looked seconds away from crying. He used the moment to contemplate a new strategy. Yuuri was distressed and Phichit was working him back into his hold. He could not afford to be a bystander in this. Within a few seconds, his mind created the blueprints for a plan.

“I agree,” Viktor announced. “That was reckless of me. But please don’t blame Yuuri, it was my fault.”

Phichit narrowed his eyes. “I wasn’t—”

“I knew Yuuri’s profession when I propositioned him. I noticed his inebriated state and should have known that our contract was invalid.” Viktor smiled thoughtfully. “I should have known that my watch was too cheap a trinket to win his affections.”

Phichit glanced over at the watch. From his experience with Cartier, he’d place that piece of extravagance at fifty grand—at least.

Viktor continued the performance. “And in his defense, Yuuri tried to call you yesterday. I stopped him. Perhaps it was foolish of me but I wanted to treasure our freedom together before all the papers and numbers came in.” He sighed dramatically and rested his head in his hands. The man was an Oscar winner in the making. “I let my lusts get the better of me and took advantage of the most beautiful man I’ve ever met.”  Viktor turned to Yuuri. “Yuuri, please find it in your heart to forgive me. I don’t think I could bear it if you didn’t!” Then, he moved to Phichit. “And please accept my sincerest apologies. I didn’t mean to cause so much trouble. I will gladly sign any contract you want in order to have Yuuri in my arms again.”

Phichit was taken back. Before he could come up with a response, Yuuri clasped Viktor's hands and told him everything was alright. "You shouldn't be sorry!" Yuri shouted. "I should have been more careful."

Viktor refused to let him take any responsibility. Phichit could not believe his eyes. By taking the fall for it, Viktor not only painted himself as the noble hero but as a martyr against Phichit’s tyranny. Yuuri, on the other, _swooned_ ; he grew wings and was resting on top of a cloud shaped like a heart.

Phichit smiled at Viktor despite his overwhelming urge to smack him. “Mistakes happen,” Phichit gritted out. “But the fact of the matter is: we need to set up boundaries.”

The men all took their seats. Phichit took out a pen and some papers out of his Louis Vuitton briefcase. “First things first: Yuuri’s virginity.”

Yuuri made a strange noise between a dying seal and a chicken on the chopping block. Phichit continued regardless.

“Since the watch is a gift, I’ll need to have it appraised before I can count it as payment for Yuuri’s maidenhood.”

The noise returned, this muffled by Yuuri’s arm as he sunk into a depression on the floor. 

“I need a set amount. For now, I figured we put down a number as a minimum but let it be adjustable depending on the watch’s value. For example, if we sell Yuuri’s cherry—”

“Stop saying that!” 

“For ten thousand dollars, and the watch is worth five; you’d be obliged to pay up the rest of the amount from your pocket. However, if the watch is worth twenty thousand, then that value is Yuuri’s to keep. Agreed?” 

“Sounds reasonable,” Viktor agreed.

Yuuri managed to pull himself together to protest. “Phichit, the watch is worth—”

“I know how much it’s worth,” Phichit interrupted. He smiled at Viktor. “How does seventy-five thousand sound?” 

Viktor’s eyes narrowed. “A hundred,” he countered as madness flashed through his pupils.

Yuuri made another squawking noise. He could barely stand being in the trio and sunk deeper into his chair as he wished for the lunch to be over.

Phichit did not hesitate. “A hundred thousand,” he wrote down. The watch must be worth more than that—Phichit shook his head. He must be growing senile.  

“The second matter is allowances. I assume you want an exclusive contract?”

“Of course.” He smiled over at Yuuri. “I don’t like to share. Especially not with something so precious.”

“How cute!” Phichit mocked, though his stomach was churning. “The minimum for exclusivity is seventy-five hundred a month. Depending on availability, it can go higher. Yuuri is a student-athlete, meaning that his schedule is limited. For now, he is off season so you’ll have more leeway.”

“I want as much open availability as possible, plus on-call status.”

Phichit paused in his notes. The cards in his head start shuffling but he controlled himself from playing his hand too soon.  “How do you feel about that, Yuuri?”

Yuuri fiddled with his cutlery. “That’s fine. I…I would like to get to know Viktor better.”

Phichit nodded, his mood rising. He hoped Viktor noticed his newfound cheer. It was always nice to rattle the dogs before letting out the lions. “That will be an extra twenty-five hundred for his on-season months, three thousand when he is off-season, and an extra five thousand for his breaks—if you want those to be yours, too.”

“I do.”

Phichit figured that was the case. He turned to his best friend. “Yuuri? Will you be okay not returning for the holidays for your family?”

The thought made him swallow, but Yuuri reminded himself of his resolve. “My parents will understand if I have to work."

Viktor, displeased at being synonymous with 'work,' made sure to counter the argument. He cradled Yuuri's hand. "I was hoping to take you to Paris for Christmas. There's a place I've always wanted to share with someone. I hope it won't disappoint you to come with me." 

Yuuri blushed. He fiddled with his fingers. "I'd like to see it, too."  

Phichit nearly snapped his pen. He smiled and nodded. “Wonderful," he gritted out. "The contract will state that all gifts received by Yuuri are his property and you will seek no legal compensation if your relationship is terminated. If you purchase anything that requires government information such as property, cars, etc., I need to be aware of the details, before Yuri’s name is placed on them.”

Viktor chuckled. “You’re very thorough.”

“I’m good at my job.” Phichit turned the page. “I’ve talked to Yuuri beforehand about the things he’s willing to do… _sexually_.” He gave Viktor the paper. The Russian all but lunged for it while Yuuri sunk so low, the tablecloth covered his face like a funeral veil. “You’re to turn in your list and I will discuss with Yuuri about whether or not he is willing to exceed his comfort zones for your pleasure. Stepping outside them requires another fee.”

“Of course it does.” Viktor was amused at this point. He folded the paper into his own pocket. “What else is there?”

“There are a few other stipulations but they’re minor. You should have your lawyer look at them and then send me a copy if there are any changes. Mind you, if you do that, I’ll have to send them to my lawyer and the process will take forever.” Phichit grinned. “I know how impatient you can be.”

To his credit, Viktor did his best not to glare.

“There’s also a thorough description of the rules there.” Phichit handed him the contract. “I highly suggest you study it.”

Viktor took the papers with a smile. “I’ll try.”

“Good,” Phichit called over a waiter. “How about we get something to eat?”

Yuuri was the most eager for the break. He was the first to order since he was skimming through the menu while the other men were bickering. He asked for brown butter scallops with polenta and a cup of French onion soup. Phichit and Viktor made their own orders, not caring too much about the product. They were only here for one purpose.

It was only when dessert came that the two were finally able to discuss it.

“How about you go to that bakery you like and pick up some cakes for us to enjoy at home?” Phichit suggested. “All these desserts look too generic for my tastes.”

Yuuri was hesitant. He looked back and forth from Phichit to Viktor, as if wondering whose permission to ask.

Viktor smiled brightly. “I think that’s a great idea. Can you pick me something, too, beloved?” Viktor grabbed his wallet and took out some cash.

Yuuri took it and blushed. “What would you like?”

“Surprise me,” Viktor said with a wink.

The Japanese beauty walked away with one final glance at the table. Something about his departure made him feel like he was leaving on a lifeboat before the storm.

“You are being remarkably civil,” Viktor praised. He was all smiles again, and it seemed as genuine as the ones he gave Yuuri. “When I talked to my brother, I thought you were going to come here with guns blazing.”

Phichit sipped his water. “What good would that do? You would destroy me.”

“True,” Viktor agreed. “But I was hoping for at least a bit of fight. It’s been so long since someone raised hell. I miss it.”

Phichit shrugged. Viktor’s eyes narrowed at his nonchalance. His father used to warn him about resting rats and scheming minds.

When Phichit finished his water, a waiter was quick to give him a refill. Phichit thanked him as he moved onto the next subject. “For argument’s sake…let’s say you do care about Yuuri as more than a wet hole to sink your dick into—”

“Yuuri is not—”

“Don’t care,” Phichit interrupted. “That doesn’t change the fact that you are a very dangerous man. Yuuri could get hurt.”

“I take good care of my things.”

“And is that all Yuuri is to you? A thing?” 

Viktor leaned back in his chair. “He is mine. He’s been mine since the moment I’ve laid eyes on him. You should be grateful I’m letting you have this entrepreneurship touch him. If it weren’t for your friendship, I would have gotten rid of you that night.”

“I don’t doubt that.” 

“But here you are,” Viktor growled out. The change of mood happened so fast, Phichit got whiplash. “I could have you dead, Chulanont. Stabbed by one of your many patrons or even in a robbery gone wrong. I could have your pretty face mauled by dogs or tie you to a breeding bench and let my men have their way with you until your ass is bleeding over the pavement floor.”

The declaration was intense. Phichit remained silent and for a second, Viktor was naïve enough to think he got through to him. Instead, Phichit checked his watch and glanced over at the door.

“Do you sweet talk that way to all your babies?”

Viktor raised an eyebrow. “I don’t have anyone else.”

“But you used to,” Phichit guessed. “All of them, _on-call_.” He repeated and smiled. “I’m willing to bet you've treated them very well. Now, what’s to say I open my mouth and inform Yuuri of all those pretty things?”

Viktor narrowed his eyes. “They’re not relevant. You’re fishing for leverage,” he mocked. There’s a tenseness to his voice that made Phichit know he was on the right track.

“It doesn’t matter if they’re relevant or not. All it takes is a simple suggestion. ‘Yuuri, you’re so lucky. Viktor has informed me he is very experienced with being a daddy. He’ll treat you very well.’ ‘Yuuri, I got into contact with one of Viktor’s babies in Russia—he says good luck and he hopes to meet you one day. It turns out, Viktor can get experimental.’” Phichit shrugged. “Yuuri knows daddies aren’t expected to be monogamous, but it’ll hurt your claim on him, won’t it?” Phichit chuckled. “It’s amazing how a little seed of self-doubt can destroy a relationship. See, Yuuri’s never been that secure, but he’s the type to leave if he thinks something will end in failure.” 

Viktor slammed his knife on the table and sunk past the wood. The entire restaurant turned to stare at them. Chills ran down Phichit’s spine but he kept his resolve.

This was for Yuuri, he told himself.

Phichit raised his hands up in defense. “But I’m willing to walk away from the other night. I am willing to forget and I’m going to keep my mouth shut. But you? You need to remember: my game, _my rules_.”

For the longest time, Viktor remained unmoving. His stare bore into Phichit’s eyes and the fear he felt when Phichit had thought he’d lost Yuuri, his best friend, was nothing compared to the terror that rose when he was faced with Viktor Nikiforov alone.

The answer would come whether either liked it or not. From the corner of his eyes, they saw Yuuri returning to the restaurant carrying pastries.

Phichit flinched when Viktor extended his hand as a peace gesture. He let out a breath when he saw it. The breath was caught when he looked up and saw that Viktor Nikiforov was smiling. He smiled like sunshine and it was magnificently horrific.  

"Pleasure doing business with you, Chulanont." 

When they left the restaurant, Yuuri and Phichit returned to their apartment together.

"Tomorrow is a school day," Phichit reminded. He grabbed Yuuri's arm and pulled him aside. "We should stay together until then."

He pointed out that Viktor and Yuuri were not allowed to engage in any 'relations' until the contract was finalized. It was an annoyance, but Viktor eventually allowed it to occur as long as they exchange phone numbers. Phichit reluctantly complied, unable to resist the puppy dog eyes Yuuri's. Viktor had laid a small, peck on Yuri's cheek before he left. He wished them a good day and swore an amazing weekend with Yuuri once the contract was finished. 

When Viktor walked back to his car, a large boom was heard as soon as his driver and bodyguard pressed the beeper. All of a sudden, the garbage bin several feet from the car blew up into smithereens, successfully throwing Viktor and his protection unit to the ground. Every single man and woman on his payroll grabbed their guns. One made sure to shield Viktor with his body. 

Viktor narrowed his eyes and shoved Georgi off him. Much to their distress, Viktor sauntered over to the trashcan. It was far away enough that no one would have gotten hurt but not so far that it didn't send the message it needed. Viktor paused. Before anyone could question him, he crumpled the paper in his pocket, alongside Yuuri's list of kinks, and got into the car. 

"It's not safe!" Georgi shouted. 

"It's fine," Viktor replied. "This was just a warning. Besides, if he could have tampered with the car, he would have. The garbage can was the closest he could get with alarming suspicion." He spoke with such confidence. All of a sudden, Viktor started laughing. 

"Viktor?" 

Viktor continued to chuckle, resting his hands in his palms. He was shaking.

"Viktor?" 

Viktor wiped a few stray tears from his eyes. He'd been laughing too hard. 

"Yes, Georgi?" 

"I think it's in our best interest we use a different car." 

"I think not," Viktor countered. "Get in the car or find another way back." He was smiling as he said it. Gulping down his fears, Georgi walked over to the passenger seat. All the bodyguards followed suit. 

Meanwhile, Viktor checked his phone. He sent another lovely text to Yuuri and received a sweet-natured reply in its stead. He decided to play by Phichit's rules for now. It'll only be a matter of time before Yuuri was resting in the palm of his hand. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my goodness, I got so excited writing this chapter that I stayed up all night writing it. Fuck, I'm so happy. (=ↀωↀ=)✧ I am really excited to post this chapter ♥ Anyways, while I know it got a little dark here, I want it to be clear that we will get back into the "black comedy" area next chapter. I want this to remain happy, albeit in a dramatically inappropriate way. 
> 
> I also want to bring forth more couples because we don't see enough of them in other stories. So who's the next couple going to be? Please send in your requests! 
> 
> Next chapter will be posted on July 1st! See you then!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are almost no good people in this story...except for Yuuri and Michele.  
> This is an EmilxMichele chapter.

By Monday, almost all the babies returned to school with a significant bonus to their bank accounts. Yuuri couldn’t remember the last time he'd seen so many zeroes. While Phichit encouraged an afterschool special of splurging and spoils, Yuuri had other plans. He was adamant about paying Phichit back for his generosity, even going so far as to bow his head like a dog and deliver his entire monthly allowance as penance. Phichit refused, but Yuuri remained determined to right his wrongs, even when there were no wrongs to right. It took hours, but Phichit managed a compromise.

In exchange for not taking his money, Yuuri was going to read _every single goddamn rule_  Phichit put in place for his babies. He was going to breathe and live those rules. Phichit would test him and check him  _hard_  on all the things that Viktor can and  _cannot_  do. Most of it was pointless dribble. Everyone broke the rules, one way or another. The main idea was to get Yuuri acquainted with the concepts of ‘black and ‘white' in a morally gray profession. Yuuri may be a baby, but Phichit wasn’t going to let him get taken advantage of like a child.

In the meantime, the rest of his money was tucked away in an offshore account. Before he drafted Yuuri’s contract, Phichit talked to his banker in Switzerland about setting something aside. The man who managed their funds was a strange gentleman by the name of Josef Karpisek. He was an old client of Phichit’s, a former daddy of Chris, and a master at money laundering. He handled all of Phichit’s accounts, and Phichit made sure someone handled all of his needs. They followed the guidelines of thieves, and while neither of them trusted each other, both had too much to lose to betray one another.

In the meantime, Phichit would attend his classes and pretend every day was brighter than the diamonds on his rings.  The second part of Yuuri lessons started today: “how to escape uncomfortable situations without aggravating the client” with a few key alterations. 

These alterations included “say dil-no, not dil-do” and “cockblocking is just playing hard to get with hard-ons.”  

Phichit trembled with trepidation and giddiness. It was only a matter of time before Viktor’s façade slipped away like a penguin on ice and by then, Phichit was going to make sure Yuuri wrung Viktor dry. The thought kept his spirits up as he met with his friend after class.

Yuuri didn’t notice him coming forward, which made Phichit tense. Ever since they became roommates, Yuuri hardly ever left his guard down. There were too many times he fell victim to Phichit’s random glomps and pounces for him to lose vigilance. Phichit’s fears were confirmed when he came close and saw that Yuuri was texting someone. Yuuri was mid-yawn when Phichit jumped his best friend.

“Phichit!” Yuuri shouted.

Phichit purred as he snuggled against his best friend. With a tight smile and sparkles, Phichit asked who he was texting.

Yuuri smiled shyly. “Just Viktor. We’ve been texting since last night.” The prettiest blush appeared on his cheeks. “He can’t wait until the contract is finalized.”

Phichit grinned while trying to grab the phone.  “Let me see!”

“Oh!” Yuuri pulled back. “It’s fine!” He shouted. He looked so embarrassed; he could die. “The messages are  _private_ …I …” Yuuri shook his head furiously. “I think I should keep them to myself.”

Phichit frowned for a second before replacing his irritation with a wink. “Wow! He must be really interested in you! Good, you can use that!”

The thought of using anybody made Yuuri uncomfortable. Before he could make note of his reluctance, another yawn made its way to his lips.

Phichit sighed knowingly. He patted Yuuri on his back. “You’ve been texting him all night, haven’t you?”

Yuuri turned red again.

“And day, I guess. Were you texting him in class?”

Yuuri hesitated. “I don’t want him to think I don’t appreciate his attention,” he murmured. He turned to Phichit with worried eyes.  “How did you know? Do I look that tired?”

Phichit smiled. “It’s first daddy jitters. Happens to all of us. You’re nervous that if you don’t give him all your attention, he’ll let you go.” And lose that generous paycheck in the process. “Don’t worry; you’ll get used to balancing your schedule.”

Yuuri nods. “How long will that take?”

Phichit shrugged. “Chris and I have our methods of getting by.” Flirting, blowing, and bribing usually did the trick for them. Phichit hadn't opened a textbook since freshmen year. “But you can always ask Otabek or Michele. They’re good at that.” Phichit thought about Otabek's kitten and how his temper raged against the smallet infraction. Just the other day, Phichit overheard a conversation organizing a hit on one of Otabek’s former daddies. “On second thought, Otabek’s current daddy might have a problem with that.” Phichit pulled out his phone. “I’ll get you in contact with Michele.”  
***

Out of all the babies Phichit managed, Michele has been with his daddy the longest. The older boy was one of the reasons Phichit got into management in the first place.

Halfway through his second semester at Michigan, Phichit left the escorting service he used and became an independent baby. The decision was the source of great disdain from his former Madame, who offered him a substantial fee to come back while simultaneously threatening him in the process. Phichit paid her no mind. His boldness was the source of admiration for the girls and boys he used to work with. The combination of good looks and shrewdness turned Phichit into a roaring success. By Christmas break, at least half of his ex-coworkers were reaching out to him.

Amongst them was Sara Crispino, a gorgeous Italian student and Phichit's contemporary. As her studies advanced, she found herself having less time for her job. Bills were racking up and things still needed to be bought. The worse of her stress was coming from her brother. 

“The other day I saw him looking through my phone,” Sara complained. “It wasn’t my work phone—thank god, but he’s suspicious. I just don’t have time to manage him, school, and new clients.”

Phichit agreed. He sipped his cola with complete understanding. “Totally.” A cheery smile appeared on his face. “You’re in luck! I went through the client list you’ve given me, and your prospects look great!” He pulled out his information. “I set someone up for you tonight. He was recommended to me by someone else but we didn't click." Phichit emphasized the last word with by actually clicking his tongue. The Thair boy shrugged off the rejection. It happened and at least he got a decent reference from it. "He's a pretty cool guy and he might like you."

"How about my list?" Sara teased. "Any keepers?"

Phichit nodded. "There’s this one guy you were with, the Korean fellow? We should contact him in the future.”

Sara’s eyes widened. “Seung-gil? Are you sure?” Sara laughed to cover up her nerves. “He didn’t seem to like me the last few times we’ve been together.”

Phichit disagreed. “I checked his history with the people in our company. So far, you’re the only person he asks for more than once,  _and_  he hasn’t seen anyone else since you’ve met.” Phichit left out the possibility he could have memberships at other escort services. “Plus, he’s busy enough that you’ll have plenty of time to focus on your studies."

Sara decided to take his word for it. "Anyone else?" 

Phichit raised an eyebrow. "I thought you didn't have the time?" 

Sara rolled her eyes. "I can manage at least one or two more. Come on!" She threw Phichit a wink. "You know I'm versatile."

Phichit sighed, as if he was tired of his friend's shenanigans when in reality, he couldn't wait to have someone join him. "You can do girls, right?" 

Sara nodded. "I thought they didn't pay as much?"

"As johns, no. But if you have a _sugar mama_ you should start carrying an umbrella everywhere because you will be _showered_ with gifts. Trust me." 

Sara giggled. 

"I'll try to find you a few more matches, set up a couple more appointments." Phichit folded his list. "I wouldn't go more than three. Daddies aren't like johns. They want to feel special; like they're the only ones in your lives, even when they're not. They require more attentiveness, more time and more affection." Phichit giggled. "Plus, that brother of yours is like having another boyfriend already.”

Phichit shivered dramatically at the mention. 

Sara almost busted a gut laughing. “I know, I know. I love him, but he’s a handful. At this rate, he’ll find out.” She sighed. “Can you imagine the drama?”

Phichit did not have to. Less than an hour after she said it, a hundred and eighty centimeters of sexy Italian man-meat stormed through the doors, yelling obscenities at Phichit,  going so far as to grab him by the collar of his shirt and lift him off his feet.

Sara screamed.

Phichit’s feet dangled in the air.

The entire restaurant watched as Michele called Phichit a pimp and john at the same time.

Phichit rolled his eyes. “I can’t be a pimp and a john. If I’m a pimp, I don’t have to pay. If I don’t pay, I’m not a john.”

“Not the time, Phichit!” Sara yelled.

Phichit hummed. Despite the volatile situation, Phichit couldn’t help but admire the man in front of him. He had a jawline with more structure than Phichit’s life and muscles the size of oranges.  As twins, Phichit wasn’t surprised that Michele was a complete catch. If Sara’s descriptions were to be trusted then Michele was smart, too. Daddies  _loved_  that. Unlike escorts, daddies needed babies who could upgrade their status. Someone they could take to parties and enchant their guests. It’s one thing to capture a pretty face, it was another thing to have someone who could use their mouths for anything other than oral.

“Have you ever slept with a man?” Phichit asked as he used his free hands to molests the older boy's muscles.

“W-what?”

Phichit dropped to the ground. When he looked up, Michele was a red, spluttering mess.

“Cute,” Phichit noted.

Sara dashed over to help him up. When he was standing, he straightened his outfit. “That’s a no, I guess.” He tried his best to suppress his excitement. A virgin. A golden goose in a field of doves.

“You don’t know that!” Michele yelled. He was burning up like a field under attack.

Virgin in  _every_  way, then.

“That’s still not a ‘yes’.”

Unable to look him in the eye, Michele turned to his sister. “We’re going home!” He shouted. “We’re going to have a serious discussion about your life’s choices and you will never see this… _person_  again.”

“Coworker,” Phichit clarified, rather unhelpfully. “Or, ex-coworker to be precise.”

Sara glared at him before turning to her brother with an expression equally dire. “Michele, I love you but it is none of your business what I do and who I do it with.”

Michele gasped as if he had been struck. “This is my business! You’re my sister and your innocence is my responsibility.”

Phichit snorted. “Boy, have I got news for you.”

“Not helping, Phichit!” Sara shouted again.  

Michele glared at the other boy. “You will not be doing anything with anyone. I will not have you mingling with the likes of… _deviants_ ,” he whispered scandalously. “We are going home. Tomorrow, I will take you to church, and we will pray for your soul. Afterward, you will receive penance from Father Marco.”

Sara rolled her eyes. “Father Marco is in Italy.”

“Then we are returning to Italy.”

“Michele!” Sara scolded.

Her older brother latched onto her wrist. Before she could stop him, he dragged her outside. He was going to take her home and tuck her away from the evils of the world. America was corrupting her. “Come with me! I will not let this continue!”  

Sara took her hand back. With a grim expression, she made her resilience known. “I am not going back to Italy, and I am not quitting my job!”

Michele’s heart sank. “Why would you want to continue?” he asked, appalled. “That profession is  _dirty_. You’re so much better than a…a…!”

“Whore?”

“Don’t say that!” Michele covered his face in shame.

Sara sighed. She took a step back and continued to do so whenever Michele followed. Finally, they both stopped in their place.

“Michele, I  _like_  my job.”  

“No, you don’t!”

“The money is great.”

“Money isn’t everything!”

“And so is the sex.”

“ _No!_  No! No! No!” Michele covered his ears to avoid listening any further. "You're lying!" 

Sara shook her head. "Michele." She could not take this any longer. Sara walked up to him and took his hands into hers. He finally met her eyes and was relieved to see that in those brown orbs, she was still the same little girl he grew up with. His relief was short-lived when she spoke again. 

“I think we should take some time apart.”

"What?"

Michele's lip trembled. 

Sara winced. She could hear his heart drop to the floor. 

“What do you mean?” He asked pitifully. 

Sara looked away, holding back her own tears. Her heart clenched. She couldn’t bear to look at her brother when he cried.

This was for the best, Sara thought. They needed to break away eventually. Maybe this was what she wanted when she started this lifestyle.

“I’m going to stay at a hotel for a few days,” Sara informed. She turned around. “Please don’t follow me.”

"Sara, wait!"

Sara left with her footsteps all over Michele’s heart. As he sunk to the ground, he screamed to the skies, not noticing the pedestrian’s strange looks or the way they took their children in the opposite direction. “Sara!” He cried, in typical Italian fashion. Tears rain from his eyes as the clouds darkened to match his mood. “Sara!”

“Michele?”

Michele leaped to his feet. Disappointment covered his face when he saw that it was Phichit instead. “You!” Michele pointed at him. “You’re the one who got Sara into this mess!”

To his anger, Phichit only laughed. “I’m flattered you think I can make Sara do anything.”

The point was sound. Michele did not stop glaring. “What do you want?”

“I wanted to say sorry.” Phichit smiled apologetically and it was a lovely sight. Michele could feel his defenses weakened by the sheer beauty of the sun before him. “I didn’t mean to spur a fight between you and your sister. To be honest,” Phichit leaned in as if he were whispering a secret. Up close, Michele could smell the mangos and cardamom on his skin. It was intoxicating. “Sara came to me to talk about leaving her current company.”

Michele’s eyes brightened up. “So she’s going to stop working as a harlot?”

“No.”

Michele roared in defeat.

Phichit raised up his hands in innocence. “I meant, she wants to go beyond simple escorting and move on to something more… _dignified_. While it’s not what you want, you’ll be less likely to worry about her in the future.”

Michele’s eyes furrowed in confusion. He didn’t understand how anyone could find dignity in this line of work. “What is it?”

Phichit gave him a bright smile; one that conveyed trustworthiness and adoration. Michele blushed. “All I can say is that it’s more exclusive than what she’s doing now. You won’t have to worry about her meeting different men every day of the week.”

Michele blanched.  

It took all of Phichit’s willpower not to laugh. The Thai baby pulled out a piece of paper. “This is the hotel and room number where one of her potential clients is staying. You can vet him if you like. I think you’ll really like him. He’s quite sweet and has a thing for Italian beauties.”

Michele took the paper. He shuffled his feet awkwardly. “Why are you doing this?” He asked suspiciously. He wanted to be grateful but his instincts were alerting him to danger.

Phichit expected the question. “Listen, I’m an older brother, too.” True. “Sara is one of my closest friends.” True. “I’d hate to see two siblings get torn apart.” Fairly true. “I think, with a peace of mind, you’ll be more reluctant to condemn this practice.” Lie. “It’ll be great if I could play a part in salvaging your relationship with Sara.” 

Again, a horrible lie.

At the end of his explanation, Phichit sighed. He sealed the deal with his reluctance. “Just promise you won’t do anything drastic. Say the wrong thing and Sara could lose this client altogether.”

Michele’s expression perked up at that.

Phichit tried not smirk. He knew the expression of someone playing into the palm of his hand.

Michele thanked Phichit, probably thinking he pulled one over on the boy. Phichit knew that Michele intended to beat that client within an inch of his life. As long as he made it to the hotel room, Phichit particularly didn’t care. He flipped his phone and called the future daddy immediately.

“Hello? Emil? This is Phichit. I wanted to inform you that he’s on his way. Ah…yes! Of course. But I have to remind you that he’s still a virgin so he’ll be a little tense…Oh, I’m sure you will.” Phichit giggled appropriately. “Yes, please send it over once the night is finished. And remember, if you like what you see, I’ll be more than happy to discuss future arrangements.”

***

Once Emil Nekola hung up, he almost tripped taking off his clothes. Every bone in his body was shaking. He scrolled through his messages to find Michele’s picture again. One time wasn’t enough.

Emil sighed at the loveliness. Michele wasn't looking at the picture--too shy, he was told. Emil giggled like a schoolgirl and hopped on his bed as he imagined all the dirty, delicious things he was going to do with that body.   

Emil made the right decision to keep in contact with Phichit. Months ago, he bought the boy’s company for a night, only to prefer his conversation instead. Phichit was lovely and fun, but Emil wanted more than someone to sleep with. He wanted someone to take on trips, to tease and watch their cheeks redden, to talk about their families and share secrets with. While the Thai boy was gorgeous and his credentials spectacular, he was too independent for Emil’s liking.

Emil wanted to be  _needed_.

Soon pounding was heard on the door.

Emil trilled like a canary with granola. He skipped to the doorway, butt naked and prepared for a long night of fucking and fun. He hoped he wasn’t being too upfront; the boy was a virgin. He glanced over at the room and told himself it wasn’t an issue. 

It’ll be fine, he reassured himself. He already hid all the toys. A little nudity never hurt anyone.

As soon as Emil opened the door, an adorable face flushed with anger and nervousness filled his peripheral. Before introductions could be made, the boy shoved Emil back into the room. Emil stumbled back. His heart pounded. The boy was so forceful!

He  _liked_  it.

“You must be Michele,” Emil noted with reverence. He swooned. Michele was more beautiful in person!

The boy startled to hear his name. It didn’t make his anger any less apparent, but it did get him to pause. Michele gave him a onceover and soon, cherry red decorated his entire body.

A little closer and Emil could lick the flavor off his skin.

“Why are you naked?” Michele yelled; Emil's erection rose steadily at the sound of his voice, forcing the younger man to cover his face. He couldn’t believe people could be so brazen in this world! “You pervert!”

Emil laughed. The boy was as shy as Phichit described. To help encourage him, Emil grabbed Michele’s hand and dragged him to the bedroom. He knew he should have been more patient but he couldn’t wait, not with this Donatello in front of him.

Emil threw the boy onto his bed and he landed with a soft ‘oof.’ The bottle of lube bounced. Michele’s jaw dropped when it landed in his hands.

 “What is this?” He asked, horrified. The bottle read: “Boy Butter: For All Your Personal Lubricant Needs.”

“Oh, just a little something to make  _this_  go in smoothly.” Michele could practically hear the man wink. He looked up. His eyes widened when Emil’s cock swung in front of him like a pendulum.

“A-ah…” Michele choked; his voice was failing him when he needed it the most. 

Emil saw the direction of Michele’s gaze and smiled soothingly. He ruffled Michele’s hair. “It looks bigger than it feels,” Emil lied. He felt bad for doing so, but he was confident that by the end of it, Michele would be begging for more. “I’ll be very gentle. You’re in good hands for your first time.”  

Michele’s outrage did not do a thing to deter his beauty. “How do you know that?”

Emil smiled at his embarrassment. “Don’t worry about it,” he answered without answering. “Just close your eyes and relax.”

Emil’s hands found their way to Michele’s zipper. As soon as he pulled down the line, Michele’s thighs clenched together. “Stop it! I-I—this is wrong!”

Emil paused. When he saw Michele's expression, he cursed his eagerness. The boy was a nervous wreck! He regretted being so aggressive. At this rate, there was no way he could continue without hurting Michele. To make up for his fervor, Emil climbed on top of him and straddled his hips.

Michele gasped. “What are you doing?”

Emil cut off any further questions by leaning down and kissing him. When Michele opened his mouth to gasp, Emil took full advantage. His tongue ravished him. He licked, bit, and sucked every crevice of his mouth. When they parted, Michele’s lips were swollen with delight and he was panting. He looked completely  _ruined_. His eyes were teary, his tongue was out, and he looked more fucked out than people Emil had actually fucked. The sight turned Emil’s semi into a full-blown erection. To make matters worse, his cock was pressing against Michele’s. On instinct, the Italian rolled his hips.

Emil groaned. “Was that your first kiss?” He asked breathily.

Michele was too blissed out to lie. “Yes…” He whispered.

Emil swore. Virgins were amazing. He bent down for another kiss and this time, Michele responded with as much enthusiasm as he was given. The pleasure was turning Michele into a natural-born slut. It was like breaking a dam and having all the water overflow.

Michele’s cock continued to push against him. Emil couldn’t help himself. He broke the kiss and his ears tingled when he heard Michele whimper in disappointment.

Emil’s hand sneaked into his opened jeans and slipped underneath his boxers. Michele almost cried when the hand gripped his cock.

“Too much,” he cried out. He clenched his eyes closed. 

“I’ll make it better,” Emil promised. He got off Michele’s lap and pulled his pants down. “Lift up your shirt.”

To Emil’s pleasure, Michele lifted it up. He was about to take it off when Emil stopped him. By the time Emil ordered Michele to hold up his top, he was ready to explode. “I want to see your nipples,” Emil begged. “There are so cute; it’s like looking at cherries.”

Michele pulled up enough of his shirt so that his face was covered but not his pecs. 

“You’re so embarrassing…” Michele whimpered.

Emil’s heart fluttered at the sound. He wanted more and he saw the way to get them through Michele’s nipples. They were perfect; obscenely large and puffy as a dandelion. Emil’s mouth watered. 

He had to get a taste.

Emil used the tip of his tongue to circle Michele’s nipple lightly and the reaction was phenomenal. The nubs hardened and swelled like strawberries and Emil swore they tasted as sweet. He flicked his tongue over the tip. Michele was terribly sensitive. Emil wondered if that was a result of his inexperience or something natural. Emil was a terrible man to have continued his experiment. He nipped on the other nub harshly and while the pain made the Italian boy fist the covers, it also made him terribly hard.

Emil wrapped his mouth around an entire breast and started to suck on them languidly. Though no nourishment could be produced, Emil enjoyed pretending. He liked how perverse it was to milk this pretty, virgin boy like the Madonna he was and have him all to himself.

Emil let go of the tit to moan. The fantasy was filthy and wrong and it made the situation horribly exciting.

Unable to wait any longer, Emil stopped his ministrations to open the lube. He was generous with the liquid, spilling a hefty amount onto his fingers. Before he pushed them in, he asked if Michele was alright.

“I’m going to need you to relax. Can you do that?”

“For what?” Michele muffled through his t-shirt. The Italian was too nervous to look at him. Emil didn’t blame him. He hoped the boy enjoyed bottoming; Emil particularly didn’t care for it but he would give it another go for this creature.

“I’m going to prepare you now,” Emil informed as he pressed the first finger inside.

“What are you doing?” Michele shouted. He pulled down his shirt to see what was going on but by then, Emil was already working in his second digit. The college student moaned; he dropped his head back onto the bed and arched his back.

“So…so good! Oh god!” Michele moaned.

Emil couldn’t stop grinning. There were some guys who hated getting fingered and some who loved it. Emil worked enough asses to know the right way to move and where to go. He curled his fingers inside and listened to the song of Michele’s moans. When Michele spread his thighs apart, Emil choked up a bit.

Michele was in complete awe from the pleasure; unable to do anything but just take and enjoy whatever Emil gave him. The boy was a rare gem; the last dodo bird; a dying breed. He was a natural in bed; a bundle of hormones that would lose all shame once a cock was inside him. Emil wanted to go to church for whatever miracle led to Michele’ virgin behind into his bed.  

Michele’s early release snapped him out of his thoughts. Without warning, a massive spurt of cum came all over his face.

“Michele?” Emil muttered in shock. When Emil got a good look at him, he saw that his eyes were teary and his entire body was trembling.

“What was that?” Michele gasped out; he was overwhelmed and his breath was shallow.

Emil coughed, lost for words. “You came.”

Michele was more confused than ever. He furrowed his brow. “Where did I go?”

Emil choked on his own saliva. “You…uh…had an orgasm.”

Michele startled, and after a second’s contemplation, horror filled his face. “Was that sex?” He asked. “Did we have sex?” Michele jolted up but as soon as he rose, Emil’s fingers sunk deeper inside and Michele landed directly on his prostate.

“Ah!” Michele moaned. Emil could feel the little pleasure spot pulse. Michele’s hole twitched and clenched against his fingers as he had his second orgasm of the night.

Emil wanted to be a better man. He truly did. Instead, he slipped in a third finger and listened to Michele moan. The younger man lifted his hips up and to Emil’s surprise, he started to fuck himself on the fingers. Michele closed his eyes in delight. It was  _good_  but not nearly  _good enough._ He wanted  _more_.

Emil caught his breath at the image. Finally, he had the courage to ask: “Do you want me inside you?” He winced at his own goodwill. Emil was ready to bust a nut and if he  _didn’t_  get inside Michele, he didn’t know what he was going to do, just that it was going to be immoral or stupid or both.

The decision was up to Michele. “Do you want to have sex with me?” Emil asked, as sweetly as he could.

Please say yes, Emil thought, Emil was going to start going to church if he said yes.

Michele bit his lip. He had never been so unsure in his life. On one hand, if he was correctly assessing the situation, then this was  _sex_  and sex before marriage was  _wrong_. On the contrary, everything felt so good, he didn’t know what to think. 

“Can we…can we have sex…just a little?” Michele asked, still a little hazy from his first two orgasms.

Emil’s mind came up with numerous possibilities, from handjobs to blowjobs to every type of job possible in the bedroom. The problem was that his conscience was not as effective when his cock was working overtime.

“We can,” Emil offered. The happy look on Michele’s face was almost enough to stop Emil from backpedaling on his offer. “But you don’t understand how gorgeous you look right now. It’s hard to control myself around you and I don’t think I’ll be able to stop once we start.” Emil slowly retracted his fingers, making sure to give Michele a nice, solid push against his prostate—a little motion that wasn’t nearly good enough to cause another release.

“Where are you going?” Michele whined.

Emil sighed. He was gambling and his balls were on the line. If Michele didn’t follow through, Emil would be a man and accept his fate. He would cry himself to sleep with his dick in his hand, but he would accept it. “I…” Emil could feel his heart clenched. It hurt. “I think you should leave. We can try next time?” Emil offered. He was about to tell Michele that the payment would still be his as long as Michele kept his virginity until he was ready to give it to Emil but the words died on his lips when younger boy latched onto his arm. The boy was a flushed out, barely fucked, mess. He started to pull Emil on top of him. Lucidity still absent from his mind as Emil’s fingers squelched in his ass.  

Emil was sweating bullets as he inched himself forward.

“Maybe,” Michele told him, “It doesn’t count? If you put it inside me?” Michele remembered listening to Sara’s school friends talk about the “exceptions” good Catholic girls used if they wanted to get physical with their boyfriends. The nuns quickly put a stop to such a nonsense, but there were some tricks he recalled. Besides, as a boy, would it even matter if he was the one getting penetrated? It was only sex if  _he_  was doing the fucking, right?

Michele voiced this out to Emil and found the older man agreeing at once.

“Nope!” Emil shouted. “Doesn’t count! Still a…you’re still a virgin,” he squeaked out.  

Michele turned away, trying to hide his embarrassment. Sara used to tease him so ruthlessly about his innocence. “You can…you can put it in.”

Emil could barely control his excitement.

Be gentle, he reminded himself. He wanted Michele to come back after this.

Emil pressed the tip of his cock against Michele’s hole. With the loss of his fingers, Michele welcomed the intrusion. His hot hole sucked in the cock head with relative ease, moaning all the way.

“Perfect,” Emil panted, even at less than an inch in. “The tightest hole I’ve ever had. Absolutely godly, so hot and snug around me. You’re better than heaven.”

“That’s blasphemy,” Michele muttered.

“Your body is blasphemy,” Emil teased.

Michele was about to scold him when Emil started pushing more of his cock inside. It was too big and yet Michele wanted more at the same time. There was something thrilling about being used. He suddenly understood why everyone was so obsessed with sex—except this totally was  _not_  sex. It was  _better_. He wasn’t  _sinning_  or doing anything wrong. Emil was just sticking his cock inside him and thrusting it back and forth.

Emil lifted his legs for better access. He continued to enter Michele as slow as he could without being torturous to either them. Michele began to make these delicious, cock-twitching sounds that made the Italian boy cover up his mouth with his hands. Emil would have none of that. He immediately tossed Michele’s legs over his shoulders and started working him in faster. To keep Michele loud and wanton, Emil bent down and kissed him. Michele’s hands retreated to the sheets where they would be fisting for the rest of the night.

Michele tried not cry. He was already making such embarrassing noises. His hole was being stretched out on an enormous cock and he was burning up like some harlot yet for some reason, nothing was enough.

“More,” Michele sobbed. “You’re not doing enough!”

Emil chuckled. “I have to treasure you, darling. My cute, little Mickey.”

Mickey was the nickname his sister used for him. His childhood address felt so much dirtier coming out of Emil’s mouth.

It was terribly arousing.

Michele instinctively tried to clench around that fat cock of Emil's. He loved the feel of the veins massaging his insides.

Emil groaned. “Do that again,” he muttered. 

Michele obeyed.

Michele moaned when Emil’s patience was weakened. For a second, he thought Emil’s cock would hit his throat with how deep he started thrusting. He was still gentle and steady, but his thrusts were heavier and hit deeper. The stretch was more prominent but this was definitely something Michele could get used to.

After a few more thrusts, Michele started losing it. His prostate was wrecked and even after two releases, it was still eager for more stimulation. Pleasure built up inside him and as Emil hit that special spot again and again, he focused on clenching and getting more bang for his fuck.  

Emil started pushing in deeper and pounded him in so heavily that he started moving his body forward. He rocked his lips enthusiastically, forcing Michele to grasped onto the sheets even tighter.

“I’m close,” Emil breathed out. He was thrusting away, hitting Michele’s prostate like it was a baseball. Michele threw his head back as Emil lunged at him in one, single complete stroke.

“Fuck!” Emil shouted as he came. Huge globs of cum coated Michele’s insides, leaving him fuller than ever. Even with Emil’s cock deflating inside him, it was simply too much. The cock churned his insides and before he could think, Michele’s cock reacted with a few spurts of his own.  

Michele moaned when he was finished.

“Best fuck of my life,” Emil gasped. He fell to his side in defeat. His cock laid limp on his thigh.

Michele agreed, despite his lack of experience. His entire body was shaking but not in fear or disgust. All that was left of him was pure, unadulterated pleasure. Sweat pooled from every corner of his body and slick, a combination of cum and lube, dripped between his thighs.

Before Michele fell asleep, he wondered why any guy wanted to have  _sex_  when  _being fucked_ was so much better.

***

The next morning, Emil woke up feeling alive. He was ready to hack the Pentagon, alter the stock market, or ski off a Bolivian mountain. Anything to replace the thrill of last night. Eventually, the Czech millionaire settled for ordering out from the most expensive breakfast joint in Detroit and getting cash out of his safety box. He placed aside a few thousand dollars for Michele’s tips before grabbing another stack.

Michele was a good boy, but Emil was confident he could persuade him to bend the rules and spend the weekend with him. Besides, once he confirmed it with Phichit, he was sure everything would be alright. As soon as he thought so, his phone rang and Emil perked up. Speak of the devil, as they say!

“Hi, Emil!” Phichit’s sunniness never faltered. Emil couldn’t help but feel a kindred spirit in him.

“Good morning, Phichit!” Emil greeted. “I was just about to call you!”

Phichit laughed. “You sound happy. I assumed something good happened last night?”

Emil grinned. “It was spectacular!” In an effort not to wake Michele up, he went to his balcony. “Michele was the best I’ve ever had,” Emil proclaimed. “I swear; I knew it was a good idea to keep your number. Where have you been hiding him?”

“Oh, I would say he found me,” Phichit replied. “So I guess you’re going to be a repeat customer?”

“More than that.” Emil couldn’t afford to let him slip away. “Is there a way I can get a long-term contract? One that prevents him from seeing anybody else? It will be up to him, but I  _really like_  him,” Emil admitted. A lot of people would be afraid of admitting their infatuation. He was practically asking to get ripped off. Emil did not bother to care; he wanted to see Michele again.

There was a pause over the phone. Finally, Phichit spoke. “Well, I’m glad you think so. But Michele’s still really new to this. He's only done it this time because he wanted to see what his sister was going through. She was the one I meant to send to you.”

“Oh.” Emil was grateful that wasn’t the case. He was sure no one else could compare. “So he’s not interested in continuing?”

“I don’t think so.”

Emil’s heart dropped. “Well, maybe I can convince him to go out with me, like on a real date?” He asked hopefully.

“I don’t know,” Phichit hummed. “You did just pay him for sex. You can’t expect anything organic to happen after you've treated him like a whore. And even if that wasn’t the case, he’s really busy with school.”

Emil sighed in disappointment.

“But…”

Emil perked up.

“Being a sugar baby is a lot different than being a prostitute. You get to know your partner, learn about them. Michele’s nothing like me.” Phichit laughed. Emil blushed, embarrassed that Phichit knew exactly why Emil didn’t care for him. “He’s inexperienced. He doesn’t know how to flirt or play with people’s hearts. He’s a sweet, awkward little lamb. Every moment you spend with him, you get to know the real him.”

Emil didn’t think anything could sound so right.

“Tell you what. How about you hand the phone over to me and I'll try to put in a good word for you. If he says ‘yes’ then we can… _talk_. We’ll set up boundaries. After an appropriate amount of time, you can talk about exploring a relationship outside of money. How does that sound?”

Emil jumped at the chance. “Yes!” He shouted. “I mean, definitely. He’s sleeping right now, but I’ll have him call you back.”

“Have him call me as soon as he wakes up. And don’t mention this to him; I don’t want him to think we were scheming behind his back.”

Once Phichit hung up, Emil cheered. He opened the door to his bedroom and saw his sleeping beauty still slumbering. He knew this was going to be the start of a great love story.

***

While Emil was wrong about many things in his life, Michele was not one of them.

The two of them were situated at the  _Baia do Sancho_  in Brazil. While Emil preferred the harsh waves of the tropic regions, the beach was nice enough to surf on and a sight to behold when Michele was involved. After getting some activity into his day, Emil settled underneath an umbrella with his water and watched the  _view_  from afar.

Michele was dressed in nothing but his swim trunks—a pair of tight hot pants that accentuated all of his best features. The privacy of the beach made him more open to showcasing those delectable nipples that Emil loved to suck in his free time. The water sparkled on his flesh as he played in the reefs, cooing over the marine life; from the little fishes, turtles, and sharks. Emil fell even more in love. The ideal combination of sex appeal and innocence.

Emil turned on his camera just in case. He would have to save these for later.

While he continued to enjoy the show, Emil heard his phone ringing. The number was a surprise but not strange in the slightest.

“Viktor!” Emil answered cheerily. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Viktor’s laughed in response. Emil could hear screaming in the background and the words “I will end you, bitch!” being shouted out in a rich, feminine voice.

 “Is that Isabella?” Emil asked.  

“Yup!” Viktor chirped. “I’m letting her use the headquarters for a personal project. Some people just can’t keep their hands off other people’s things.”

Emil nodded thought Viktor couldn’t see him. He glanced over at the other folders on his computer. One of them was a collection of bugs that once nipped on his flowers. Fortunately, with friends like Viktor, insects were easily exterminated.

The best part was that Emil didn’t even have to get his hands dirty!

“So, I heard you know Phichit Chulanont.”

Emil made a noise of agreement. “He’s great. Hooked me up with my Michele.” He swooned Michele dived into the clear water and sprung out like a siren. “I owe him my world.”

“Do you owe him more than you owe me?”

Emil didn’t hesitate to answer. “Now, you know it doesn’t work like that,” he scolded. “I treat all my friends equally.”

Viktor chuckled darkly. “Of course.”

Emil wondered what Viktor had in mind. He hated getting involved with other people’s squabbles but that was a consequence of having so many  _friends_. Blessings were often curses in disguise.

“I need a ‘full order’ on surveillance,” Viktor explained. “I want his apartment bugged, his phone, his laptop, even his classes. The works. I’ll pay accordingly.”

Emil sighed in disappointment. “I can’t do that. Phichit made me do a ‘full order’ protection job years ago. I can’t give you his details any more than I can give him yours.”

“It’s not for Mr. Chulanont.”

Emil perked up. “Oh?”

Viktor hummed. “It’s for one of his babies.  _My baby._  You understand the need to take care of what’s ours.”

Emil glanced over at Michele. The younger man was coming up on shore. The Czech grinned in agreement. “ _Completely_ ,” he answered. “I can do that. What’s his name?”

“Yuuri Katsuki.”

Emil made a noise of approval. “Cute. I can get you a background check by tonight. You’ll know everything from his parents’ names to what he had for breakfast this morning.” Emil did some typing. “I’ll have someone work on implanting the bugs by tomorrow. The rest, I’ll take care of when I get back.”

More screaming was heard from the background before dying into a low, lifeless whimper. He heard Viktor ‘tsk’ over the phone. “I have to get back to you,” Viktor promised. “Should I send the normal amount?”

“Sounds good.”

 The matter settled just as Michele arrived. Emil closed his laptop.

“Was that work?” Michele asked, annoyed that the vacation he got strong-armed into was being superseded by his boyfriend’s employment.

Emil got up from his chair and pulled Michele into a kiss. “It was,” Emil answered, “But you’re far more important.”

Michele tried not smile. The horrible part was that he believed him.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Late chapter is late. 
> 
> My mission is currently to answer as many reviews as I possibly can. I'm very bad at that but I will try this time. I do have a twitter which is what I use to post a schedule and tell you when a chapter is going to be late. I recently answered a question on Twitter so it's a good idea to use it if you desperately want to know something about the story. 
> 
> Secondly, please don't ask for pairings that aren't listed or would contradict another pairing. So don't ask for something like YurioxJJ if I already put JJxIsabella and YurioxOtabek in the tags. 
> 
> Next chapter hasn't been outlined but it's leaning towards JJxIsabella (which got the next amount of votes). 3rd place was GuangxLeo. I want to give everyone screen time but keep the focus on the main pairings (YuurixViktor and YurioxOtabek).


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A JJxIsabella chapter with some insight to how Isabella joined the mafia world. It has a nice bonus YuurixViktor at the end though! Some gore, but not really. Hetero sex.

All her life, Isabella’s parents taught her the value of success. If she was smart, she could have anything she wanted. Every A was a new dress; every piano prize was a new album of her choosing. By the age of five, Isabella got used to the studying regime. She took piano lesson four times a week, went to karate class the other three days, went to a Chinese Learning Center after school, studied for an extra hour afterward, and then took a half an hour practicing on the piano before she went to sleep. When she turned fourteen, she got her first pimple, and her mother gave her another task.

For the next eighteen years, Isabella went to bed after washing her makeup off with an oil cleanser, a second foam cleanser to get rid of any leftover remnants, exfoliation every other day, a pH balancing toner, a serum with some sort of natural oil, a mask on the days she didn’t exfoliate, spot removal for the bulging pimples no one can see but her, eye cream for her dark circles caused by her late nights of studying to get the perfect score, a scentless moisturizer, and a sleeping mask to keep her hydrated while she dreamt of adulthood.

Her devotion to these habits made her the subject of mockery at Toronto University but soon became an odd quirk her first boyfriend ruthlessly teased her on. Linus Norda was a beautiful fellow resident who graduated at the fifth of his class at McGill. Impressive, Isabella noted on their first meeting, before pointing out that she was first in her class in Toronto. She was always first. Isabella fell for Linus rather easily. She liked him enough to ignore how upset she got when he told her to lower down the volume. People have different tastes—it shouldn’t be a big deal that he didn’t care for the rock-pop that pounded through her headphones, or how cruelly he mocked her for the posters she kept of Jean-Jacque Leroy, the teenage singer of Isabella’s favorite band.

“They’re not even real musicians. They’re just a bunch of school kids playing instruments. They don’t even have a label.”

“You don’t need to belong to a corporation to be a real band. Besides, I love his songs. They’re all about empowerment and believing in yourself.”

“It’s millennial nonsense.”

Isabella bit her tongue. She always did that when she wanted to scream but couldn’t. “I’ve read his bio, and I’ve been to all his concerts. He’s wonderful. He volunteers in his free time and goes to church with his parents every Sunday. He gets good grades and is even going to school abroad—”

Linus groaned. “Stop it; you’re embarrassing yourself, Isabella. Don’t you think it’s time to stop being a fangirl, especially at your age?”

There was that reminder again. _At your age._ Isabella cursed television for enforcing the belief that doctors were these young, idealistic babies in their twenties. She was twenty-two when she graduated college, spent an entire year abroad to strengthen her resume which forced her to finish medical school at the age of twenty-seven. Last month, she passed her surgical residency and was a licensed doctor pushing _thirty-two_. Her mother and father were no longer badgering for success. It was all about marriage now. _Kids._ Things she was supposedly _too old_ for.

“I’m leaving,” Isabella said. She didn’t want to raise her voice, but Linus was especially aggravating tonight. “I think I have some paperwork at the office.”

“When should I expect you home?”

 “Tomorrow.”

Linus waved her off. It took everything in her power not to slam the door. She drove to the hospital and did several hours of paperwork. She imagined the praise from her superiors, and that, alongside the thought of purchasing at least four pairs of Louboutins and the newest Chanel purse, was enough to calm her down. Linus hated her spending habits. He could not resist commenting on her extravagance which gave her the opportunity to point out that she made more than enough to cover her purchases. After all, a surgeon's salary was far superior to an anesthesiologist. The contrast between incomes drove Linus mad. Isabella's mother once commented that her words were emasculating. Isabella countered that a real man wouldn't care if his girlfriend made more money than him. 

JJ wouldn't care, Isabella thought wistfully. He would be proud to have a girlfriend who could afford the things she wanted without asking for help. People on the forums called him arrogant and egotistical, but Isabella wished she had someone as self-confident as him. 

When Isabella finished with all of her work, it was close to midnight. It was late, Isabella thought. If she was lucky, Linus would have gone to sleep.

The lights were off when she arrived, and a wave of fortune passed over her. She tried to tip-toe in when the distinct sound of squeaking of bed springs and rugged groans echoed from her bedroom. Isabella thought the worst. She grabbed a knife from the kitchen and crept inside.

“Come out!” She shouted as she turned on the lights to reveal her boyfriend in bed with another woman.

Isabella froze while Linus threw bed warmer off to the side and tried to cover himself.

“This isn’t what it looks like.”

Isabella doubted that.

With the lights on, the surgeon recognized the woman as one of the new hires; a nurse recently graduated from college and in the prime of her life. She was young and pretty and so blonde her hair glowed like sunshine. Isabella stood in her place. She thought about how this would affect her life. She refused to relocate and she liked the apartment. It was her first one. The only thing to do was break up with Linus and demand he abandon the apartment and hospital without a fuss. If not, she would turn in her resignation and explain the details to their director, who would gladly terminate Linus' employment in exchange for Isabella. The nurse would have to go as well.

The plan was perfect. 

It would have been executed, too, if it weren’t for the fact that the mistress, when trying to get out of the bed, steadied herself on the wall. Isabella’s _autographed_ poster of Jean-Jacques Leroy was hanging there and unaware of its significance, laid her hands on JJ’s face and accidentally tore it apart.

“Oops.”

Linus saw the look on Isabella’s face, and as soon as he opened his mouth to tell her to “calm down, it’s just a poster,” Isabella acted at once. She marched over to the copulating couple and stabbed Linus in the throat before jamming the knife down to his chest. She looked up and saw the nurse’s terrified expression. Before she could turn her attention elsewhere, the girl bolted. Isabella took once glance at JJ’s torn face and decided that she could not let his demise go unpunished. Isabella chased after the fledging and stabbed her in the back. When she was done, she dragged her body back to the bedroom. Towels were used to soak up the blood.  They were too big to carry out unnoticed so she did the humane thing. She got out an ice cooler and removed their usable organs. Then, she chopped up their parts and put them in a garbage bag.

She was a student once; hospitals could always use more bodies for research.

***

Isabella returned to the hospital and made it clear to the officer that she had never left in the first place. The man had been making rounds all night. He never checked her office more than once. “I was here the entire time. Just in the morgue,” she lied. She first dropped off the organs to keep them from spoiling and made shifty records into the system. Most of them got thrown out anyways so no one checked the records carefully. Afterward, she headed downstairs.  

Isabella was never good for making plans on the spot. When she arrived at the morgue, she expected to be the only living person there. She did not expect a group of men covered in blood, throwing another, silver-haired man onto the table while said man clutched onto his bleeding chest. Her surprise caused her to drop the garbage bag, revealing the body parts of her ex-lover, because surely, they were broken up by now, and mistress to spill out.

“Are those limbs?” Asked one of the men. He was the oldest one in the room and spoke with a thick Russian accent.   

Isabella was good at keeping her cool. It was how she stayed with Linus for so long; it was what got her through medical school. “Yes. Yes, it is.” She glanced over at the bleeding man. “Is that a bullet wound?”

Everyone became quiet.

“No, it’s several,” coughed out the injured man.

The old man told him to shut up. Isabella noted the guns in their holster. She decided to act.

“I’m a surgeon. I can patch him up,” Isabella pointed out.

There was a pause. The men looked at each other but the bleeding one made a decision with his loud, boisterous laughter. 

The man got up, much to the protest of the old man. He glanced over at the pieces of Isabella’s maimed victims. “And we’re just a bunch drunks who wandered into a hospital. We won’t remember anything tomorrow.”

Isabella knew a good deal when she heard one. “Get him to the room next door. It’s sterile. I’ll get my supplies."

The men acted quickly. Before they left, the silverette grabbed her hand and asked for her name. “I’m Viktor by the way. Viktor Nikiforov.”

Isabella hesitated before telling, “Dr. Yang,” and “Isabella,” after some thought.

“Isabella,” Viktor repeated. "I think we're going to get along just fine." 

***

The surgery was a success. Isabella would soon learn that Viktor was a hard man to kill, and an even harder man to turn down. After breaking into her house with lots of small talk and an obscene offering figure, Isabella found herself turning her letter of resignation the following week. She said that Linus’ disappearance was taking a toll and his presence was haunting her in the halls. 

Several weeks later, Viktor moved her to Vancouver to help with a few transplants and a week after that, had her follow him to Moscow. Her loyalty was rewarded handsomely. When Viktor brought her to Detroit to help set up a “free clinic” and prepare for his arrival, she was ecstatic. JJ had started his university term that year and was only miles away from her newest penthouse.

The memory made it easy for the present Viktor to sneak the scalpel out of her hand. Isabella jumped. “Viktor, what are you doing?”

“You’ll see,” he chirped. He walked over to Isabella’s latest victim. The girl had her tongue and fingers cut off, a reference to the Instagram post where she had commented ‘who the old hag next to JJ’ was. Viktor stabbed her in the jugular and put her out of her misery. Isabella sighed and sunk back into the chair. 

"Sorry, I got lost in the past," Isabella explained.

“I think we should call it a night,” Viktor suggested. “I have to meet someone and you should visit JJ. He probably misses you.” After a moment, he added, “Men don’t like it when girls play hard to get.”  

She supposed Viktor would know, being a man and all. “It would be nice to see him before he goes to sleep. And not on camera.” She sent a longing glance at her phone. She floated out the door like a vampire and went straight for JJ's apartment. Besides, it had been a while since she snooped through his room. The cameras Emil set up for her (which cost her a stiff fee every month) usually kept her in JJ’s loop, but JJ was not who she was worried about.

She took one final look at the mangled corpse. There were vermin everywhere, she thought.

***

When Isabella announced she was home, a flock of flying papers fluttered in her peripheral.

“Izzie?” Isabelle winced when she heard a thud dropped to the ground. “I thought you were working late!” JJ shouted as he tried to tidy up. The place was a mess. His guitar was lying on his couch like a girlfriend and his laptop lounging on the floor. Pens were scattered, all multiple colored and glittered because it made JJ feel like royalty, and more papers came up like a smoke screen. His panic gave Isabella flashbacks to Linus. He was also panicked when he got caught.

At once, she snarled and patted the gun she kept on her person for emergencies. When she knew it was safely in her handbag, she marched to the bedroom. “Where is she?” She yelled.

“What?”

“Where is she?”

JJ got up and followed her to the bedroom. Isabella was tearing through the sheets. His shirts and pants were thrown in every direction while his boxers were safely placed into a pile for later used—Isabella was adamant about doing that part of his laundry. “Did you have sex with her in our bed?”

“Who are you talking about?”

"Who? You don't know which one?" Isabella threw a shirt at him. “So you have multiple whores?” She asked, hysteria rising in her voice.

“I don’t even have one whore! I just have you.”

Isabella threw a pillow at his face and took a deep breath. She still hadn’t reached for her gun. Self-control, she reminded herself. Masumi would be so proud.

Isabella clutched her fist. “If you tell me the truth, I’ll forgive you,” Isabella told him. She would lock him up in her apartment until he remembered who he belonged to, but she will forgive him.

“There’s no one.”

Isabella threw a book at his head. He dodged it. She moved onto the dresser and practically tore off the cabinet in the process. There was nothing but his studying materials. Finally, she had an epiphany. The papers! She thought. JJ was scattering the papers around. She ran outside and started collecting them off the floor.

JJ held her from the back and lifted her off the ground. She tried to paw her way out of it, hissing like a disobedient cat. “Izzie, stop it! You’re acting insane!”

"No, I'm staking my territory!" 

"There's nothing going on!"

Isabella didn't believe him. She managed to grasp one page and her eyes widened. JJ dropped her. “JJ…were you writing me a song?” JJ sputtered and turned away, embarrassed. “I wanted to surprise you. It’s to celebrate the day we met." 

Isabella turned red. She remembered the day they met; it was after she met Viktor and decided to spoil herself with his concert. The trip from Moscow to Detroit took half a day, but the jet lag was worth it. She waited in line for hours and even set up to meet with some members of JJ Girls—the fan club she founded for women of a greater maturity. It was nice, she discovered, to go to concerts with her peers rather than try and blend in with the younger crowd. After the concert, Isabella and the rest of the girls ran to queue for autographs. Isabella was in front of the line until a girl, no older than sixteen, pushed her on the ground. Isabella was imagining all the ways to get rid of the body when JJ came into the crowd to help her up. Isabella swooned as he asked her if she was alright. She practically fainted when he invited her to the lounge. The room was cozy and closed off and JJ called her beautiful. The happiness she felt whenever JJ said her name was almost enough to dissuade from killing the twat that pushed her.

Almost.

The next day, Isabella contacted Viktor’s friend Emil to collect information on JJ. She found the apparel store JJ worked at and asked him out to coffee the very day. They talked about his music and Canada and how school was doing. When she invited him for lunch tomorrow, he turned her down—but not of his own volition, Isabella reminded herself.

“I have work tomorrow. Raincheck?”

Isabella wanted to take the offer. Instead, she asked how much JJ made at his job.  

JJ scratched the head. “Uh, about $10 an hour?”

“So $70 a day?”

JJ tried his best not to look embarrassed. He was a proud creature—Isabella had seen enough of his shows to know this and she admired him for it. She wished she had half his confidence. He turned away. “I mean, it costs money to afford equipment and I’m an international student so I can’t —”

Isabella took out her wallet—it was red and Chanel and had the iconic quilted look. She pulled out three hundred dollar bills and rested them out on the table. “This should be enough to cover it.”

JJ stared at the money. “I can’t accept that.”

Isabella smiled. “Why not? You’re definitely worth it and it’s barely a dent in my finances.”

"Really?" He sounded so impressed. Isabella's heart swooned. 

Isabella watched as his head swelled and he got speechless. He really was a boy at heart; desperate for praise. He needed a woman like Isabella; one who could treasure him unlike those barely sprouting college girls.

“Please,” Isabella pushed. “We can go anywhere you want. There’s a place I wanted to try and I hate eating alone. Since I just moved here, I haven't made any friends.” Isabella remembered reading about a five-star restaurant while she was flying first class. She heard their braised pork belly was baked thirteen hours and the ham in their mac and cheese was soaked in maple syrup—it was supposed to be heaven. JJ must have heard similar, too, because his eyes widened and after he glanced at the money on the table, he ended up nodding.

“If it means that much to you,” he said, trying not let on how excited he was.

“It does,” Isabella agreed. And his cooperation meant so much to Isabella for the next week, and the next, and until Viktor made the decision to change venues to America. He set her up in the loveliest apartment and it was the perfect time to move JJ into his own place. He loved it. All the rooms were soundproof and there's was an entire space for his instruments. JJ was hers before a contract was even made.

***

Having forgotten anything but the song, Isabella’s lips latched JJ. “You are wonderful,” she told him. Isabella caressed his cheek. “I can’t wait for you to become a star.”

JJ beamed at her; either he had a short-lived memory and had forgotten about her antics or his tolerance had developed so much he was numb to her insanity. Isabella managed to push him onto the floor. She was smaller than him but with the right amount of force, had him on his back in seconds. She lifted up her pencil skirt and bunched up the leather around her hips before popping the button open on his pants. The whole situation was disgusting and arousing. When JJ moved in, Isabella guaranteed that everywhere was convenient for a fuck. It didn’t matter if he bent her over the armchair or she was thrown onto the counter. No place was untouched.

Isabella took out JJ’s cock and admired it. It was always such a shame to cover it so she never did. JJ never questioned her. She was his first. When they first met, he was a touch over eighteen, a bright-eyed church boy who dreamed of being one person for the rest of his life. She liked that about him; it made it easier to trap him. If he ever grew out of his idealism, she supposed she would have to get pregnant. He would really stay by then.

But that was another issue altogether because Isabella spread her legs further apart and maneuvered it towards her. JJ moaned when he felt his pressed it against her slit. Isabella was soaking, a pretty pair of lips all stretched out and ready for her handsome boyfriend’s cock. Her stomach fluttered when she saw JJ’s face, enraptured in pure, unadulterated bliss. It made her insides bubble with joy and she could feel herself getting wetter as she inched herself in. His pleasure reminded Isabella that the money meant nothing. She wasn’t a job to him; he enjoyed being with her.

JJ grabbed ahold of her thighs and started to pull her downwards until he was completely inside her. Isabella let out a loud, gasping noise. She kept moving down until they were really fucking on the floor, papers scattered about and her love song somewhere in the middle about to covered in cum. JJ was not one for harsh movements. He liked to soak in Isabella’s wetness. She was warm and snug and was like a pocket of pleasure all for him. He thrust his hips up and tried to churn inside her; he pressed against her skin in a firm but not harsh matter to really feel her.  Short breaths, moans, and whimpers filled the room. JJ closed his eyes, losing himself in the moment. Isabella bent down to kiss him.

“Come inside me,” she whispered. “I want you to fill me up.”

JJ was young and it was a folly and fortune Isabella never forgot. He came quickly, filled her up to the brim. Teenagers, she thought with some glee, they were so virile.

The feeling of JJ”s cum inside her hastened her own relief. She tightened up on JJ’s deflating cock and bent down for another kiss. Their foreheads touched and the sweat stuck together. When she pulled away, she used one hand to balance herself and the other to touch JJ’s lips. He had beautiful lips and gorgeous voice and she wanted nothing more than to hear it for the rest of her life. The thought made her stutter and with a final breath, she came, her juices dripping all over JJ’s cock.

***

When Isabella does not pick up her phone, Viktor assumed the best. He rather not have his evening spoiled with a 2:00 AM phone call about killing another boyfriend. Viktor learned the hard away that after two lovers tragically disappear, people start suspecting things.    

Earlier that night, Emil had given Viktor a phone call about a spare key to Yuuri’s apartment complex. He agreed to meet up with one of Emil’s associates and was handed the beacon of accessibility. While he was grateful for Emil’s gift, the success only made him greedy for more progress. He promptly asked if Yuuri was busy and was relieved to find

‘No,’ his text answered. ‘Phichit has a date tonight.’

After a moment’s hesitation, Yuuri sent a happy face—not one with a wink but a feat for the normally passive young man. Viktor sighed with pleasure.

‘how about we have some fun?’ he replied—a beaming winky face attached.

Viktor pulled up to the apartment. He made sure to park it away from the security cameras and wore his hat and sunglasses as he accessed the back door. According to Emil, there was a security camera that didn’t work at the fire exit. While he was walking up the stairs, he received Yuuri’s response.

‘sorry, Phichit made me swear not to break any more rules.’

Viktor texted a sad face with a message ‘boo, that’s no fun.’ There was a camera outside of their apartment according to the blueprints Emil sent to him. He decided to improvise.

‘the stars are super pretty tonight. Why don’t u come outside to take a look?’

‘not on your balcony, tho’

Viktor could imagine the little frown forming on his face. He hoped Yuuri didn’t find his request too suspicious. Even if he did, he hoped Yuuri was trusting enough to listen. To his delight, he heard the door open. Yuuri came outside and looked up. Viktor watched as Yuuri furrowed his brow in confusion. Careful not to be caught on camera, Viktor crouched down from behind. Yuuri did not have enough time to act when a hand covered his mouth and he was dragged into the staircase. Viktor took a handkerchief from his pocket.

 “Mmhph!”

“Shh…” Viktor soothed. “Don’t worry, I’ll let you go. But first, you have to answer one question."

Yuuri stayed perfectly still. As Viktor released his hand, he pushed the handkerchief onto Yuuri's mouth.

"Does this smell like chloroform to you?” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jeezus, I need a lesson on time management. I'm really disappointed in myself. Not only is this chapter late, but I wrote under 4000 words for this chapter. Gah! I'm so sorry. I'm trying to intertwine all the characters together so that they can fuse together for the future. Right now, I'm focusing far too much on the mafia and I need to get back to the sugar baby aspect. 
> 
> Next chapter will be longer and I'm refocusing to Viktor and Yuuri. It's a foodie chapter. They'll have their first date and yes, more sexy times. I'll put in Guang and Leo probably in the following chapter. Again, all the plotlines intermingle. 
> 
> Oh, and can anybody guess who Linus Norda is? I hope some of you appreciate the irony. :)


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smutty scene for Yuuri and Viktor. :) Includes a thorough massage and familial reveals.

When Yuuri woke up, his hands were raw and red, having been chaffed by the handcuffs surrounding his wrists. He panicked and struggled, which caused a more caustic rash onto his skin. His head swarmed with horrified thoughts of murderers, stalkers, and crime lords hoping to use him for nefarious purposes. He almost lost a lung in relief when the door opens to reveal Viktor, holding a tray of goodies.

“Oh, Yuuri, you’re awake! Sorry, are the cuffs hurting you? They were the only pair I could find!" Viktor’s voice was laced with a Russian accent and worry.

Yuuri nodded his head frantically. "Viktor! Get them off!"

Viktor rushed over. He set the tray on the bedside and unlocked the binds.

“Thank you,” Yuuri responded. He rubbed his sore wrists.

Viktor nodded. “I’m truly sorry. I’ll get you some lotion.”

“Oh, I’ll be alright! I had worst during my training…” Yuuri trailed off. He came to the sudden realization that _this was not a typical situation._ Surely, Phichit would have warned him that getting kidnapped by a sugar daddy was a possibility if it wasn’t something to worry about. As such, Yuuri was beginning to catch on that there might be something _a little off_ about Viktor Nikiforov. “Viktor, why am I—?”  
“Ah! I bought you something good! I remember that you love salty food, so I had my assistant pick up a few things. It probably won’t replace your beloved _katsudon_ , but it won't hurt to try, right?" Viktor winked. Before Yuuri could refuse, Viktor shoved a plate of steaming scotch eggs, spicy fried chicken, crispy onion rings, deep-fried tomatoes, and mouthwatering mozzarella sticks in his face. The door knocked and one of Viktor’s, ahem, _assistants_ came in with refreshments—water, milk, beer, and fruits of various shapes, sizes, and colors. “And those are to cleanse the palette in-between meals. I thought you'd appreciate it.”

Yuuri agreed, of course. “Thank you, but this is all too much! I can’t eat all of this!” No matter how much he wanted to.

“Oh, I don’t expect you to. Just eat what you can. I want us to have fun on our date. Do you have a movie preference?”

“Anything you like—wait!” Yuuri put his hands up as a defensive movement. He made sure to cover his eyes to avoid Viktor's face. It was too handsome to reject, and Yuuri was a weak, weak man.  “Stop! We can’t—why am I here, Viktor? Did you…” Yuuri blanched. “ _Did you drug me?_ ”  

Viktor frowned. Damn, he thought. It was going so well.

“I was overeager,” Viktor explained. He turned to his helper and snapped his fingers, giving a curt order in Russian. The lady bowed out and left with her plate.

Viktor returned his attention to Yuuri and pushed his face against Yuuri's risen hands as a puppy would. He slowly breached Yuuri's defenses until their noses were touching. Almost instantly, Yuuri's full face faltered. God, Viktor wanted to kiss those chubby cheeks until his lips swelled. “But Phichit wouldn’t let us be together until the contract was finalized and I just missed you so much. I had to see you!" Viktor whined.

Yuuri blushed. Viktor’s desperate attempt to reunite with him was flattering and almost enough to make Yuuri forget his kidnapping—almost.

 “Viktor…” Yuuri started. “That’s sweet, but you can’t _drug me_.”

“I know, I know, but you were so cute! You can’t blame me for wanting you all to myself.” In his defense, Viktor added. “And I didn't drug you! I gave you some perfume, and the strength of the scent knocked you unconscious." The Russian gave Yuuri his sincerest smile.  “I shouldn’t have dragged you from your home, but I had this fun date planned out and I didn't want to abandon the idea, so I just…scooped you up and took you home with me."  

Plausible, considering the majority of what he knew about Viktor consisted of his spontaneity and quirkiness.  this, Yuuri remained on the curb of suspicion nonetheless. “If this was all an accident…why was I handcuffed?”  

Fortunately, Viktor had a response prepared for that. “I didn’t want you to run outside until everything was ready. I would have locked the door, but I forgot the code for this room."

The logic was implausible, yet Yuuri had met a variety of strange characters since he moved to America, and a wealthy Russian with boundary issues was far from peculiar.

Yuuri sighed. "Phichit's going to be upset."

“Phichit sent a message saying that he was out for the night.” Viktor was never one to miss out on a good opportunity. “I’ll drive you to school tomorrow morning. No one will be any wiser.” He picked up a fried tomato and shoved it into Yuuri’s mouth. Despite the surprise, Yuuri ended up chewing on the vegetable enthusiastically.

“So what do you say? Dinner and a movie?”  

Yuuri won't lie—even he was ashamed at how easily he disregarded his safety and followed Viktor to the living room. The student’s eyes widened when he saw the living room. Instead of an extravagant ballroom filled with tawdry flamboyance, the ground was decorated to look like a scene out of man-child's dream. The biggest pillow fort Yuuri had ever seen was in the center, and a large flat screen TV was playing a Japanese drama Yuuri used to watch with his family. In addition to the tray Viktor was holding, a picnic basket covered the floor.

“I have a satellite that allows me to pick channels from all over the world,” Viktor explained. He placed his plate with the rest of the food and grabbed the remote. “Is this a good show or should we just pop in a DVD?" Viktor smiled as if he didn't know this was one of Yuuri's favorite programs. Just the sight of it was making his baby soft with nostalgia.  

“No, this is fine,” Yuuri said softly. “I used to watch this with my family.” Viktor led Yuuri into the fort, and it gave the student a small flashback of what happened the other night, right when Viktor directed him towards the limo. Before they started to snuggle, Yuuri raised his hand to keep the distance. “But no _sexual_ activity. We have to follow the rules.”

Viktor’s lips twitched. His eyes darkened with disapproval. “That’s fine. I wasn’t going to try anything,” he lied.

Happy about the reception, Yuuri finally relaxed. He sank into the plush pillows and watched the drama with great amusement. It was an old episode, but he found the jokes as funny as when he first watched them. Some things never got old.

Viktor must have agreed with the sentiment because he was up to his old tricks. “Would you like something finer to drink?” He asked smoothly. He got up to pop open a bottle of wine, but Yuuri shook his head. "Beer is fine. It tastes better with the food." He paused and smiled sweetly. "Um, thank you for buying Kirin. It's my favorite." 

Viktor knew that, but he only smiled and pretended to be pleasantly surprised. He didn’t want Yuuri to know about the background check. “Is it? Oh, I just made a guess. I’m glad I made the right choice.”

To his surprise, Yuuri looked confused. “I thought you knew because Phichit put it in my contract. He told me he put a bunch of things about me to make the transition easier.”

Viktor crushed the glass in his hands when he heard the information. "Did he now?"

Yuuri was noticeably flustered. “Are you alright?” He buzzed around Viktor’s injured hand like an overworked hummingbird. Viktor's men worked fast—one grabbed a first aid kit, and the other was already cleaning his room. Viktor held out his hand without once turning away from Yuuri's concerned face. "I'm quite alright. Don't I look alright? I believe I'm quite alright. Nothing hurts at all!" Viktor grinned like a madman. “How’s the hand?”

“Shallow cuts, sir.”

“Good. You may leave.”

The men patched up his hands and moved back into the shadows like demons of the night. Yuuri found the action terribly alarming.

Viktor walked forward with his bandaged hand. "I'm afraid I haven't gotten time to read the contract thoroughly. I just left it with my lawyer. Tell me, what else did Phichit put in there?"

Yuuri's instincts were telling him to escape. With every step he took backward, Viktor came forward. "Just…just little tidbits about my life. I thought you read it since you seemed to know so much about me. How…how did you know those things about my life if you didn’t read it?”

That cunning little _bitch_ , Viktor thought.

Now he understood Yuuri was so trusting in their texts. Viktor had brushed off his acceptance as naivety, but he was wrong. Phichit planned for Viktor to make the slip-up, so he placed a trump card in the contract. Viktor told Masumi to check for any loopholes that may have benefitted him or potential traps to catch him. A few facts about Yuuri's favorite dishes or dream vacations would have been disregarded.

Fire burned in his gut. He considered taking Yuuri then and there, caging his Japanese doll inside his home, feeding him his heart until nothing soaked his tongue but the blood of his adoration. He licked his lips as he imagined blowing up Chalunont’s apartment and watching it become a massive star in the space of Detroit, with the pieces of brick and plaster acting as dark matter. Instead, Viktor laughed off his foolishness and took a step back. He kissed Yuuri on the forehead. “You are beautiful; do you know that?”

“Viktor…”

Oh, that tone sounded vaguely like a warning. Though the attraction was still there, an overcast of suspicion was present in his eyes. Yuuri wasn’t ignorant enough to make Viktor’s job easy, and Viktor did not mind. He liked a challenge. While he was not completely honest with Yuuri, there was something about the lie that turned his heat into a hearth. Lately, the only time he liked himself was when he was trying to become the man Yuuri wanted. Yuuri brought that man out—the man who was more than his father’s son.

Viktor wasn't willing to lose Yuuri. He wasn't willing to give up on what they could have.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t read your contract too well. I wanted us to get along so badly that I had Masumi ask Chris for information and had him ask your mutual friends and well…I didn’t want you to find out because it seemed…rather… _creepy_.” Viktor put on his best ‘sorry’ face. He facepalmed to display his humiliation and added a small, albeit audible mutter of “I really should have read the contract.”

While Yuuri was not wholly convinced, he did bite his lip in a reluctant, chagrin manner of hesitant forgiveness. That was all Viktor needed.

“You really should have,” Yuuri scolded.

Viktor hid his triumph by jumping Yuuri for a hug. "Let's forget about this and enjoy tonight,” he half-pleaded, half-ordered. “You won’t regret it.”

The sound of resignation made Viktor clench his fist.

"Fine," Yuuri agreed.

There was a pause, and the hesitation gutted Viktor in a metaphoric way that hurt more than literally being gutted.

Yuuri was less enthusiastic about their date from that point on. He sat on the floor of the pillow fort, keeping an emotional distance from Viktor the entire time, much like his mother did after his father’s death. Unlike his mother— _the bitter, cold sow_ —Viktor cared about getting through to him. Viktor wrapped his arms around his soft, doughy body and drew him closer. God, did Yuuri feel good to squeeze. It took the nastiest images from his memory bank to keep himself from growing hard. The two of them took to sampling and eating, watching the television while the night grew darker. Time would be running out soon.

“Yuuri?”

“Hmm?” Yuuri’s eyes were half-hooded from a full belly and familiar sequences.

“I’m really happy we’re doing this.”

Yuuri nodded absentmindedly. He was purposely cold, but Viktor could tell there was guilt inside him. Paying for kindness in apathy and rudeness was not how his parents raised him. Never one for tact, Viktor dropped the bomb straight on.

“I wish my mother could have seen me this happy before she died.”

Yuuri became still. “What?”

“Oh, I’m sorry. That must have ruined the mood.” Viktor gave Yuuri an apologetic smile. “I should let you get back to the show." He moved to turn on the volume, but Yuuri placed his hand on Viktor's arm and told him it was alright.

“No,” Yuuri pleaded. “Please, tell me, I want to know more about you.”

If Yuuri’s eyes weren’t on him, he would have mimed an imaginary fishing pole and start reeling his future husband towards him.

Viktor pressed the back of his hand on his forehead and moaned dramatically. From afar, one of his bodyguards snorted in disbelief. Viktor was playing the dead mother card like an ace at a poker game and he was playing it hard.

“It’s just…we never got along,” Viktor explained with mock sorrow. “When my father died, things only got worse. She was more of a ghost than a mother.” A more apt description was a banshee, one that was exorcised promptly.

“I’m sorry,” Yuuri whispered. His eyes grew wet. Viktor wanted to run his tongue alongside his tears. He got on his knees and pressed his chest against Viktor’s shoulder. Viktor leaned into the touch. Yuuri felt _so good_.

“Honestly, it’s fine, Yuuri. I really shouldn’t have said anything." He sucked a breath in for arousal. Yuuri probably interrupted the gesture as trying an attempt to gather strength. Soon, their faces were inches apart. "Her death didn't mean much to me." When he saw Yuuri's defiant disbelief, he sought to put out any lectures about how he was only saying so because of his trauma. Viktor might have hated her if she ever gave him the chance to get to know her, but instead, he treated the woman's death as a seasonal change. Unfortunately, he couldn't let Yuuri know the extent of his indifference, so he chose a different route. "We grew apart over the years. The hard part was being the only one—" sans his grandparents, his nannies, his bodyguards, the entire Russian mafia, "who could take care of my little brother. I had to be a father and a mother for him. It was too much for me sometimes. I was just a kid when it happened.” He was twenty-two when his mother finally jumped on the train tracks of St. Petersburg. The suicide hit him like a feather. _Ding dong the bitch is dead_ rang on the bells. He swooped Yuri, his prissy little brother, into his arms and took him out to celebrate. Together, they launched his little brother’s first successful massacre of a rival mafia.

Viktor was on top of the fucking world. He was a god.

“You poor thing,” Yuuri gasped. “I’m sorry I shouldn’t have pushed.”

“No,” Viktor disagreed. “I wanted to share this with you. I feel like I can trust you, Yuuri. About anything.”

Yuuri nodded. "You can." For a moment, he seemed unsure of his next move. Viktor was more than surprised when the shy, not-so-virginal maiden, leaned in and gently brushed his lips against his. “I wish I could have been there for you.” Yuuri's lips plumped up like peaches on an offering desk, and Viktor wanted desperately to push his baby onto the floor and ravish him. “I wish I could do more.”

Viktor blushed as the flames of desire burned his loins. "I can think of a few ways…”

“How about your father?”

"What?" What sex act is that?

Yuuri's blinding determination came through. The boy climbed into his lap and pressed him for more information. “I know you said that you and your mother weren’t close but how about your father?”

Viktor tried to back away. “I don’t think that’s relevant—”

“I want us to be honest with each other!” Yuuri insisted. “I…” He turned away in embarrassment. “I like you,” Yuuri confessed.

Viktor was taken back. His heart fluttered as Yuuri, _pure, honest Yuuri_ , sweetly uttered his affection without an ounce of deception. It was the first time anyone had ever told him something so kind and simple without having an alternative motive. Yuuri was quick to defend himself as soon as the truth was out. "And it's not just because of the money either! Phichit told me I should be careful but with you, I feel, I don’t know, _safe_." Yuuri smiled shyly. "You're handsome and strong, and you've taken such good care of me. I…want to be good to you. I want to be the best…" Yuuri blushed. "… _baby_ you’ve ever had.”

“You do?” Viktor breathed out.  

Yuuri nodded. Sweetly, he reminded Viktor, "You were my first, and I'm happy about that. I wouldn't want anybody else."

"You don't?"

Yuuri smiled lovingly. "I don't. Because even though I don't remember anything, I can still feel you inside me." Yuuri's breath got a little heavy without him noticing. His hips did a slow, unconscious roll. "I can still feel your hands on me. Your skin on mine. You made me feel so good…”  
Viktor’s erection grew with each word. “Ah…”

“That’s why I want you to tell me about your father. I want to know who raised my daddy.”

“It's not necessary… _ooh_.”

Yuuri sandwiched Viktor’s dick between though thick thighs. Fuck, _them_ _thighs_.

“Were there any games you played together as a kid?" Yuuri asked. There was no sense of manipulation in his voice. He was genuinely giving him a lap-dance on instinct. Damn it, how did Viktor get so lucky and unlucky at the same time? Yuuri was sending him so many mixed signals.

“I can think of a few games we can play now,” Viktor muttered. “My family is boring,” Viktor explained. He slipped his hands underneath Yuuri’s top. “How about we talk more about yours?”

Yuuri frowned. He stopped moving his hips. “You said we talked about my family when we met. Although I wish I could remember it,” Yuuri muttered. “All I remember is the alcohol and being dragged away somewhere…”

“My father was a powerful man," Viktor intervened. He did not need to be spurring up old memories tonight, but one set was preferable to the other. “He raised me with close attention given I was his heir.” Viktor was fonder of talking about the man than his late mother. "I went with him on business outings, and we often traveled together to visit other fam—companies. I learned a lot from him.” He learned how to snap a man’s neck when he was six and how to stop a bleeding wound after he accidentally shot his father in the foot. The best lessons he ever received were on manipulation and madness. How to get someone. How to keep someone. What to do when someone _gets away_.

“You must have been close.”

“We were,” Viktor agreed, his voice no louder than a murmur. “He gave me everything I wanted. He bought me my puppy even though he knew my mother was allergic.”

"Oh, that's…sweet?”

“He was always a bit paranoid when we left the house without him so bugged us. All my clothes, my toys, everything I owned had a mic inside of it."

“Okay…Viktor, that’s a bit—”

“Our first fight was about attending a birthday party; he wouldn’t let me go. When I sneaked out, he locked me in my room for a week and wouldn’t let me have any outside contact with the world. Then, my friend’s house blew up. I never saw him again.”

Yuuri gasped. “Was he okay?”

Viktor laughed, and Yuuri sighed in relief.

“Of course not!”

Yuuri’s jaw dropped.

“But when I got released from my grounding, I found out that my father installed a new playroom in our mansion. We played games all day.” Viktor’s heart fluttered with delight. “It was wonderful!” This was why he needed Yuuri in his life. He brought out these beautiful memories from his childhood! He grabbed onto Yuuri’s squirming hips to keep him still. “You know, my father taught me that if you loved someone, it was essential to give them what they need, not just want they want.”

“Viktor…” Yuuri bit his lip when Viktor hiked up his shirt and pushed his thumbs into his belly.

"See, I wanted to go to the birthday party, but that was a bad idea. People got hurt because I just did what _I wanted_. If I had done what _I needed_ to do, I would have been rewarded. Everyone would have been happy. My father proved that to me.” The Russian leaned forward to kiss Yuuri’s neck, making the younger boy shiver.

"Viktor did your father…oh!”

Viktor pulled off Yuuri’s shirt. He moaned in delight at all that delicious, creamy skin. He latched onto a nipple and sucked like a babe milking his mother.

Yummy, Viktor thought.

“Viktor, I told you, we can’t…” Yuuri wrapped his arms around Viktor’s neck. The man massaged circles into his skin. His movements were slow and precise; he sucked and nibbled on as many places on Yuuri's chest as he could find. “…Viktor, you have to wait.”  

Viktor chuckled. "A Nikiforov doesn't wait, Yuuri. Father time works for us.” He used all his strength to lift Yuuri up and throw him on the floor. His lips twitched in delight. “I like you on your back,” he purred.

Yuuri flushed gorgeously. Soon, Viktor removed his pants. They were cheap. Tomorrow, Viktor was going to take him shopping. He would deck Yuuri out in the finest labels money could buy and then fuck him raw in one of those tiny dressing rooms while the shop attendants listened in.

Yuuri turned away so that his eyes faced the television and just when he thought it couldn’t get any more embarrassing, the previous episode had ended and moved onto the season finale of Sailor Moon’s season one. He was going to get fucked to the Power of Love.

“Viktor, we can’t,” Yuuri sobbed.

“Yuuri, didn’t you understand the moral of the story? _Your daddy always knows what’s best.”_

That was not exactly the message Yuuri received from the tale, but it was one he never had to linger on as Viktor swallowed his length in his mouth. 

“Oh!” Yuuri gasped. At once, his hands shot up to cover up his mouth before he screamed.  Viktor watched as his toes curled and his hips humped his head. It was like being stuck between the ass of an oversexed bunny. Viktor chuckled. Yuuri probably didn’t realize how sensitive he was. Viktor was doing him a favor by enlightening him.

“You’re quite the cock fiend.” Viktor mused, much to Yuuri’s embarrassment. His face flushed further when Viktor used his fingers to spread his cheeks apart and exposed his exclusive cunt to the world. “Look at that tight little hole,” he said lovingly. “I think I need a reminder of how tight you are. Don't you?" Viktor pressed his thumb inside of Yuuri’s ass in a slow, steady movement. His lower lip trembled in delight as Yuuri’s rim clamped onto his digit.

Yuuri closed his eyes. “Viktor, please!”

"Amazing," he breathed out. He pulled out of him. "I’ve never met anyone who could match your enthusiasm. It's bizarre, Yuuri, to want sex this much."

Yuuri whimpered his protests. "It's not that weird; I'm just—!"  
“Desperate to have your ass wrecked? Yes, I can see that.” Viktor chuckled. He flipped Yuuri on his stomach. If it weren't for the cushioned floor, Viktor imagined Yuuri would have suffered a good number of bruises by now. Viktor grabbed a bottle of oil hidden underneath a pillow, revealing his intentions from the start. He slathered a generous amount onto his cock and fingers. He was in the mood for a nice, slick fuck tonight and for that, he needed to get Yuuri loose.

“You wanted to take it slow, right?” Viktor murmured. “Be careful what you wish for, Yuuri.”

Viktor’s started at his calves, rubbing each muscle and groping the glutinous portions along the way. Viktor bit back a moan and gave hasty thanks for the feast presented to him. He moved onto to Yuuri’s thighs. At first, he kneaded the tissue like dough before working his way upwards, drifting over Yuuri’s upper thighs and rubbed the inner and outer places at the same time. Yuuri felt his entire body loosen up, especially his lower region. His ass was beginning to tremble into slush. Viktor licked his lips when he saw how Yuuri's hole soften. He resisted pushing in his fingers to check. He got his taste earlier—it would be too superfluous to have another. Once he finished his treatment of the thighs, his dexterous hands slid up to rest on Yuuri’s rear.

Viktor wanted to practice more self-control, but as soon as he laid his hands on that plump behind, his self-control had no choice but to abandon ship. Yuuri's ass spilled through of Viktor's fingers as soon as he moved to grope them. He swore each cheek was twice the size of his head. The voluptuous bottom egged him to work faster, and in his defense, they made a good argument.

Yuuri was fully aroused by now, and so was Viktor.

At first, Viktor glided against Yuuri’s willing hole without entering, basking in Yuuri’s choked anticipation. Then, he let his slick finger rub the outside to tease the boy. He pushed his pointer in slowly before letting the first digit slide all the way to the third knuckle. To Viktor’s delight, Yuuri’s hole opened up like a flower in bloom.

It was beautiful.

Yuuri shoved his face into the pillow below him to hold back his sobs. Viktor was adding in a second finger and this time, there was no test or tease. He put it in all the way, getting Yuuri nice and loose for the big finish. Yuuri imagined how obscene he looked with a pair of thick fingers pulsing in and out of him. Yuuri tried to clench his hole on them but his muscles were useless, all soft and slushy from his body’s earlier workout. Instead, he just laid there while Viktor took control.

With three fingers in, Viktor began to move his fingers with more vigor. He pushed in deeply and retracted his fingers as soon as the tip of his fingers brushed Yuuri's prostate. The boy tried to thrust his hips back, but Viktor used his free hand to keep the boy in check. He wanted to drive Yuuri to the edge before convincing him to jump. With an astounding level of patience, Viktor continued to do a succession of tricks and treats. He spent minutes playing with Yuuri’s rim, pushing and pulling his insides until they were jam.

“Viktor, please, you have to give me more. Please…” Yuuri moaned.

"Viktor?" Viktor tried to sound surprised. "Viktor can’t help you here. I told you. _Daddies know best_.”

Yuuri arched his backside up deliciously. “Daddy, please,” he whimpered. “I’ll do whatever you want. You were right. I’ll listen to whatever you say.”

When Viktor’s fingers curled and his knuckle pushed against his prostate, Yuuri shoved his face so far into the pillow that his screams broke the floor. He lost his mind at that moment, and instead of consciousness, all that was in his eyes was pulsing hearts.

Viktor’s fingers rubbed until Yuuri’s insides were slick all over. Yuuri was no longer holding back—he spread his legs and lifted up his hips to show off his enthusiasm. He helped Viktor along by moving backward so that the fingers could get in there deeper. Viktor grinned and decided to reward Yuuri's surrender by fondling his balls for a little relief

The pleasure from that touching was okay, but nothing compared to downright diabolical fingering he was getting. Viktor started burying his fingers inside. Instead of touching his prostate, he was pounding against the pleasure spot with abandon. Yuuri had never felt anything like it. His pants became grunts and he forgot all his words, so he resorted to action. He behaved no better than a bitch in heat, whimpering and thrusting like a dog. Finally, after such long-awaited torture, Viktor shoved his curled fingers in as deep as possible.

Yuuri came with a guttered sob. He spilled all over the sheets and sunk onto the floor boneless. His orgasm tingled everywhere. He couldn’t move. Drool flowed out of his mouth; pleasure blinded his eyes. Nothing seemed real.

Viktor pulled out his fingers and pulled down his pants when he was out. He gave his cock a few quick tugs to make sure he was slick and ready. With Yuuri out of it, it made conditions ideal for the free fuck Viktor was aiming for. He thumbed the hole open, admiring the stretched out cunt and slipped inside without another word. He moaned in delight at the slickness.

Viktor did not bother to wait for an adjustment period. Yuuri was loose enough to take two cocks without much effort. He started thrusting inside, moving with an outrageous amount of ease for anal. The room was filled with filthy squelching noises as the copious amount of pre-cum and oil dripped out Yuuri’s backside with every thrust. The pressure onto his prostate caused Yuuri to harden against despite his vigorous massage from earlier. More sounds began to join in to depict all the dirty and wrong acts in place. From the corners, the bodyguards could hear— _and see_ , all the heavy grunts, the skin on skin slapping, and how Viktor’s balls were beating Yuuri’s ass red. Two of them already got out their dicks, jacking themselves off to the scene.

While Viktor’s cock continued to pump in and out of Yuuri’s open hole, the Russian made sure tell his baby what he thought of their session. “You feel so warm and loose inside.” He moaned. “Didn't I tell you? You're nothing more than a greedy little slut just aching for a generous daddy to give you what you need." Viktor slowed down to give his baby more thorough attention. "One big.” Thrust. “Fat.” Thrust. “Cock.” Thrust. “Into your slippery cunt.”

Viktor slid all the way inside again, and like his fingers, he pushed all the way inside so that the head of his cock was jammed against Yuuri's prostate. Only his cock was a lot bigger than three fingers, and the pressure was almost abusive with its force. The act caused his cock to empty his first load in Yuuri’s ass. Because of how overworked it was, the second Viktor retracted his cock, the cum flowed out of the rim and spilled all over the floor, leaving a huge mess on the carpet.

Viktor took a large, healthy inhale of enchantment. He got up with his limp dick swinging about and lifted Yuuri in the process. He carried his slumbering lover to their bed and warned his bodyguards to make sure they woke before Yuuri’s first class. Tomorrow, they would meet to officially finalize the contract, and he wanted to experience the joy of pulling one over Phichit Chalunont.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Thank you everyone for reading this! I’m sorry it’s been delayed and I hope you like all that was involved. I really love the image of Yuuri with an aheago face. But that’s just cause I’m a pervert. 
> 
> 2\. Please note, however, that though this isn’t a reason I chose to delay, it certainly made me believe that it was the right decision. I want to be clear that I don’t appreciate single-sentenced comments such as “is there any way you can put in the notes which chapters are actually vital to the story and not just smut with minor characters?” First of all, I usually put in the notes whom the chapters are centered on. If you’re not reading them, that’s not my fault. Second of all, all the scenes are important because they build up to future plotlines. I don't appreciated the disregard. 
> 
> One of the reasons I don’t write as often in the anime/manga genre is because I get more aggressive badgering and entitled behavior compared to other fandoms. I would seriously be writing a lot more if this wasn't such a prevalent issue (the comment before was the 6th comment I deleted for this story). I can’t do anything besides delete comments. 
> 
> All I ask that readers remain considerate. If you can’t do that, then please stop reading. If I am insulted, I don’t feel particularly motivated to write. I would rather be writing for other fandoms with more appreciative readers where I can enjoy myself rather than having to deal this BS. And here's the thing. I have a lot of wonderful readers and I want this to be fun and happy and smutty thing to share with a great community.
> 
> 3\. I am open to constructive criticism as long as it is written in a respectful manner. If you aren’t experienced enough to utilize tact, then you aren’t old enough to read this story. 
> 
> Next Chapter: Guang Hong and Leo will make their appearance in the next chapter! They’re a rather happy couple. I’m on a rampage of happy couples since writing DavosxStannis. We’ll also get to see more sneak peeks of Yuuri and Viktor! (Hopefully)


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone and welcome back to the story! While I wish didn't take so long to update, I did and there's noting I can do about that.  
> This chapter is pretty much exclusively Guang Hong and Leo. It will also be the LAST CHAPTER centered on a pairing outside of YuurixViktor and YurixOtabek. So if you didn’t care for the extra pieces before, you can breathe easily now. If you did like reading about other pairings, rest assured they will have scenes in other chapters, but will no longer have complete chapters dedicated to them. 
> 
> The other characters are going to be important for future plotlines which is why I added them in. For the most part, however, this story will primarily focus on YuurixViktor, and on occasion YurixOtabek (because I love an older Yuri). 
> 
> On another note, most of the information about the mafia written here is accurate. I do a lot of research when it comes to my stories so yay, facts.

Organized criminals have long learned the value of a legal investment. Salvatore "Sallie" Demeo was charged with tax evasion for his illegal real estate endeavors. Al Capone was done in for never filing an income tax return—leading the investigators to the millions he received from illegal activities. Today, there was not a crime syndicate that existed without the aid of an Honest Joe. The legitimate business acted as both a base of operations and a means of money laundering. When Viktor’s father was in charge, the businesses often involved those that polite society avoided—sanitation or waste management professions were ideal, next were cash-based businesses that couldn't be traced, and finally, restaurants and small shops located in the crevices of low-income neighborhoods. Yet, as technology advanced so did their hardships. In the digital age, cash businesses were more transparent and easily detectable by government organizations. The law became more adept at catching criminals who had not adapted to the change of environment. Natural selection, or perhaps social Darwinism. Beginning in the 1980s, a slew of high-profile indictments made headlines which led up to the 2011 historic roundup of New York's "Five Families."

Some families saw the arrests as an end of an era while others, especially those located in the old countries, saw an opportunity to expand their reach. Criminal organizations from Ukraine, Russia, China, Japan, and some as far as Israel sent their men to sample the glory of the states. With the Titans buried in a hole, the spoils were laid out for the gods.

Viktor Nikiforov was the son of Dmitri Nikiforov, an infamous crime boss who controlled half the economy of Russia's underworld. Upon Dmitri’s deathbed, his eldest son inherited his legacy and by the hellhounds of Hades, the young heir did his father proud. Viktor Nikiforov stabilized his father’s assets in Europe and made sure to tile the roads to a new millennium. While the old generation faded into obscurity, the young Russian took advantage of the anarchy in America. Viktor established an empire on the ruins of the felonious Rome; he thrived within an economy that lusted heavily after youth and media. One that never questioned a famous face or a catchy song.

While Viktor maintained a few traditional operations—restaurants, breweries, sanitation services, and art, given that the latter was not regulated—but he much preferred the attention-grabbing facilities of a Vegas hotel or a good old fashion pornography production. His favorite enterprise so far was the recording studio he owned in Detroit, ran by the extremely talented and highly ambitious Leo de la Iglesia.

Leo de la Iglesia was Viktor’s personal success. The Mexican-American was born into nothing but the soiled sheets of his mother’s birthing bed. While possessing a talent for farming earworms and sampling obscurity into hit singles, there was little to no opportunities for him to explore his true talents. The Russian met Leo when the boy was a senior in high school, without a dime to pay for college, and left with the options of a sterile workforce or the streets that offered him no refuge from the law. Leo was talented and eighteen and so desperate for a way out that Viktor could taste the ambition in the air. He was the type of rags to riches character that Viktor liked to do business with; the young man understood the sacrifices one needed to make for success and was willing to drop the weight of integrity in order to climb the wall of wealth.

Viktor’s proposition was as clear as diamonds and glass—there was no point in suckering a fool that could be used against him. He offered Leo an education and a career, money to support his family, and a life he could be proud of—all in return for being a figurehead. Leo refused to become a drug-peddling stereotype for the media to exploit. He was going to be someone special; an example to his community. To do that, he needed to sell his soul for the music of the devil.   

Neither of them regretted their decision.

After five years of college and internships, countless acts of philanthropy, and a tragic backstory for the press, Leo developed a name for himself as one of the best, most wholesome music producers in the industry. He earned Viktor millions and no one had a clue what went on behind the scenes. Leo was loved by the public. He was the angel of the music; a role model for every young man who wanted to escape from their biographical bonds. Leo was adamant about maintaining his lawful image. Each time he shook hands with Viktor, Leo scrubbed off the filth until his skin was raw. Viktor was never offended; the more attention Leo received, the greater the distraction from the mobster’s more illicit activities.

All in all, Leo de la Iglesia’s life was a double scoop ice cream sundae with chocolate syrup and whip cream. All he was missing was the cherry on top.

And Leo didn't want to settle for a cherryless dessert. 

No matter his successes, no one would overlook the fact that at the height of his career, Leo was _still_ single _._ Mrs. Bennet would be shaking her head at Leo’s lack of attainability. While a bachelor in college could be passed off as ‘focusing on his career,’ a man of considerable fortune who did not want a wife was either a weirdo, a slut, or a serial killer. Without the time or the means to find a ‘suitable’ partner (Leo may be what one considered… _inexperience_ ), Leo—through a network of trusted sources—hired a contractor to select a lover for him.

Phichit the pimp was effective but discreet. He took great pride in his profession and promised to turn Leo’s picture-perfect life into a Michelangelian masterpiece. A week after his request, Phichit sent him an “applicant”—Quotation mark. Wink—that was to be “interviewed”—Quotation mark. Wink. Wink—for an “internship.” Quotation mark. Wink. Wink. Wink. Leo instructed the secretary to send him in for a “personal interview.” Quotation mark. Wink. Wink. In which his secretary winked back that she understood. Thumbs up. Wink.

When Guang Hong Ji walked into the room, eyes bright with anxiety, Leo wanted to eat the boy up. He denied drooling like Niagra Falls, and he certainly did not fall off his chair when he arrived. No, Leo was cool as a cucumber and hot as tequila. He was a lion, not a teddy bear. 

But boy was he attractive, Leo swooned.

All it took was a giggle and Leo was sweating. The producer stared at Guang Hong forehead instead of his eyes. He couldn't risk traveling downwards and resting his gaze on Guang Hong's lips. The forehead was much safer.

It was such a nice forehead, Leo reasoned. A gorgeous forehead. The type of forehead that organized trips and made wedding plans. Leo discretely jammed his fingers in the cabinets to get himself to stop the madness. He tried to focus on the interview, but no matter what he did, the struggle was _real_. Guang Hong Ji was better than beautiful, he was _cute_ —a faint blush on his face that never seemed to fade, shy and innocent, the type to stutter when he was nervous and pout when he was upset. Leo would have liked him even if he wasn’t good on paper.

But he was, ahem, good on paper.

Guang Hong was an international student from Harbin with a doctor for a father and a mother who was a former figure skater. The Chinese freshmen majored in marketing, with a specialization in social media—a passion evident by his slow climb towards Instagram fame. His IG was filled with pink and peach selfies, teddy bears and toys, cinematic quotes, and an abnormally high number of crepes. Guang Hong personified innocence and was loved by his 200k followers for being #pure.

Guys like Guang Hong weren’t supposed to go out with guys like Leo. And by the blessed power of dance music and the holy trinity, Leo de la Iglesia was going to prove them all wrong with his smooth Latino lover butter.   

***

“Are you nervous? Don’t be nervous. Am I making you nervous?” Leo asked Guang Hong. The boy had been fiddling with his fingers for the last ten minutes. He was startled by the observation before turning a deeper shade of red and looking at his lap.

“No,” Guang answered.

Leo broke out into a sweat. The boy was obviously lying. “Are you sure? Because we could go somewhere that would make you more comfortable? Like a hotel?”

“A hotel?” Guang Hong repeated. He frowned. "That's a bit risque, isn't it?" Though not a no and definitely not a rather not go. 

 _Estás pero si bien pendejo_ _, Leo!_ “I mean, maybe we could get something to eat?”

“Together?”

“Let's have sex. I mean, yes.” _Pinche_! I screwed up. I screwed up. I screwed up—Leo swore frantically. He tried to put on a smooth smile but it came off as perturbed. After years of focusing solely on his career, he’d completely forgotten how to talk to boys. “Yes, together.” Leo hoped he wasn’t being too forward. Guang does not answer for a second and that second was enough for Leo to doubt the slickness of his peanut butter moves. “But we don’t have to sit together?” Leo offered.

“You want to have dinner…” Guang Hong said slowly. “…but you don’t want to sit at the same table?”

“No!” Leo denied, a little too loudly. “No, I definitely want to sit with you. But—” But what? Leo thought. Why was telling the truth to Guang Hong so much harder than lying to the federal government? He once had coffee with an FBI agent while they were sitting on a couch filled with cocaine! “But not _if_ you don’t want to.”

“I…” Guang Hong seemed genuinely conflicted. “ _If…”_ The student began. “…I were to have dinner with someone, I would want to sit at the same table with them.”

“Me too!” Leo agreed with far too much enthusiasm. “It’s a date.” Their first date. He would have to adjust the details to the tabloids—dating a potential applicant for his company’s internship screamed abuse of power—but their grandchildren would know the truth.

Guang Hong blushed. “I mean if you want to call it that,” he uttered sweetly. “Mister—”

“Just call me Leo, remember?” Leo corrected. He threw in a wink that looked more like a blink going left to right. “So let’s go!” Leo grabbed his coat and marched out of the room before he could screw up. Five minutes after he got to his car, he realized that ran out without Guang Hong.  

***

Prior to their meeting, Leo reserved the chef’s table at an upscale, Chinese-fusion restaurant with a romantic view of the stars. “I know this great Chinese restaurant,” Leo suggested casually. Play it cool, Leo thought while reminding himself to breathe. Don’t let him know how much you want him—“It’s hard to get into, but I’m sure I can—”

“Oh, you don’t need to go through that trouble!” Guang Hong chirped. “I’m not the biggest fan of Chinese food. How about we get a burger instead?”

“A burger?” Wait, was that allowed? Can you seduce people with burgers? Leo wondered in amazement. That actually sounded pretty amazing and was exactly what he wanted but _no_ —Leo did not come this far just to take his future _marido_ on a date he could have made happen when he was fifteen. His mind wracked its head for some hipster burger joint that served grass-fed beef with onions watered with the tears of virgins. Something that could really impress Guang Hong. “Sure, that sounds good. There’s a restaurant I frequent—”

“Oh, there’s a place not too far from here!”

Leo snapped his face to the right. To his amazement, Guang Hong was already cruising on Yelp for reviews. “And the food looks super good. I’ll be able to take a really nice picture for Instagram!”

Guang Hong raised up his phone to show Leo the address. Leo wanted to protest. He _really_ did. But Guang Hong seemed to have his heart set about this new restaurant. With a heavy sigh, Leo clutched onto the steering wheel and headed towards the selected location.

While Guang Hong read the directions, Leo considered his options. Tonight was a bust, but tomorrow had promise. After dinner, Leo was going to drive Guang Hong home like a gentleman and promise to give him a call about his interview. The next morning, he would have his secretary reschedule the meeting and have it set _in the restaurant_ to create the proper mood for seduction. Something bourgeois and panty-dropping. Leo was clearly shit at romance, so he needed all the handicaps he could get.

“Ooh, look, they have garlic fries!”

Great, _garlic fries_. Culinary birth control.

Leo, drunk on defeat and with nothing left to lose, jokingly asked if Guang Hong would like to join him at a hotel. “I already booked a room,” Leo told him, followed by a bold, self-deprecating laugh. To his own ears, he sounded pitiful. But unknowingly to the music producer, all his shotgun passenger heard was the confidence of an American—much like the Hollywood stars, Guang loved to watch. “And it’s getting dark. You should definitely come over and check it out.”

“Really?” Guang asked. He blushed at the scandalous request.

In the dark, Leo could not tell the difference between an embarrassed flush and a natural glow. “ _Oh yeah_ ,” Leo answered. “It’d be perfect for your Instagram,” Leo added, a touch too bitter. Because all Guang Hong seemed to care about was work, and yeah, sure, he was here for an interview, but he couldn’t try and pay attention to Leo? While he was stewing, he didn't notice the satisfied look on Guang’s face. In his head, he reasoned that tonight wasn’t Guang Hong’s fault. Leo was just bad at flirting. That was the reason he hired a pimp to find him a lover.

One day, you and your grandchildren will laugh about this, Leo thought.

The drove up to the parking lot of the burger joint when Guang Hong asked if they should take their food to go. “The place is pretty crowded. Plus, we won’t be able to hear each other with all the music.” 

Leo sighed. Of course, the boy would find it too awkward to eat with him tonight. Leo could not find the willpower to resent Guang’s blatant attempts of escape. He should be grateful that the boy was making an effort to keep the night from dragging along.

I’ll try again tomorrow, Leo reminded himself. Sure, he would be lucky if Guang Hong picked up the phone when his secretary called, but even if he didn’t, Phichit seemed to have pinpointed his type to a tee. Best case scenario? He could practice on the new boys Phichit sent him before trying again with Guang Hong. Then, he wouldn’t feel so insecure—.

“If you like, we can have dinner at your hotel.”

Leo froze.

“Since you went to the trouble of booking it and everything.”

Leo’s brain fully malfunctioned.

“Leo?”

Was that his name? Right, he was a lion. He was a lion.

“Are you okay?”

Leo turned his head like a possessed doll. Even his joints made creaking sounds. “I’m sorry, what?”

Guang Hong pouted at Leo’s lack of attention. Leo wanted to eat the pout of his lips but immediately pulled back his thoughts, worried that the infatuation was tethering off serial killer territory. He held back from speaking except for single syllable words. “Say what?”

“Do you want to have dinner at your hotel?”

“Me?”

Guang raised his eyebrows. His expression bordered off confusion at Leo’s lack of understanding and annoyance for having to repeat himself again. “Yes.”

“And you?”

“Yes.”

“Me. Eat. With you?”

“Yes, yes, and yes,” Guang answered, his previous emotions fading into exasperated amusement. So far, his literal ride with Leo had been an emotional roller-coaster.

“Y-yes!” Leo shouted as he started the car. “Wait!” Leo announced, causing Guang to jump. After fumbling with the keys, and struggling with the seat belt, Leo almost fell out of the car getting out. Guang watched him with wide eyes.

“Food,” Leo muttered seriously. He was talking to himself; a fire burning in his eyes as he imagined their romantic moonlit dinner in his hotel. He could still salvage this night. “We need food.” He crawled out into the parking lot and ran like a headless chicken. Guang followed suit, but with far more grace.

Upon arriving at the register, Leo slammed a hundred-dollar bill onto the counter and demanded their best burgers.

“And garlic fries,” Guang added in. “Ooh, and I like mashed potatoes. I heard all about mashed potatoes. It's what Americans call salads.”

“Yes, yes,” Leo agreed hastily. “All of that. Whatever you want.”

Guang hummed happily. While he focused on taking his pictures, experimenting with filters and lighting, Leo finished ordering the food. All of a sudden, Leo slammed his hands on the counter. The clerk asked if Leo was alright. Leo, fanned by the flames of passion and anticipation, answered ‘no.’ He was not alright. He was about to get laid. His proximity to a climax made him aware of another concern. He started hyperventilating before whispering:

“What if I put it in the wrong hole?”

***

Leo drove them to the hotel with shaky hands and a yardstick taped to his back. His tenseness went noticed but uncommented on by Guang Hong, who assumed his rigidity was a result of sitting in the driver’s seat for too long. He even helped open the door when Leo was too nervous to get out of the car.

In his family, Leo was the peacekeeper—the middle child who stood as ceasefire zone between his more rambunctious siblings. He was the stable one; the person whose ease was contagious and whose assurance was basically insurance. He was nice but not _too_ nice. Handsome but not _too_ handsome. He had the sex appeal of a kitten playing with daffodils. It was what made him the face of legitimacy for the mob—the feds weren’t going to trust someone like Viktor.

Yet Leo would rather deal with another random search from the attorney general than have the dinner end. He was midway through his burger when he foreshadowed his epic failure.

Once Guang Hong finished the last of his mashed potatoes, he got up from his seat and asked to use the bathroom. With a sweet smile, he asked if he could take a bath.

“The receptionist said they had a really big tub here,” Guang Hong noted. “I’m going to check it out…maybe take a few pictures?”

Leo nodded absentmindedly. Phichit said he sent his best option over to Leo. The option that would initiate the five-year power couple step to stardom. Guang Hong may be high-maintenance and vain, but Leo appreciated the guarantee that as long as he had money, Guang Hong would stay.

“The tub looks like it is big enough for two people. Maybe we should test it out?”  

“That’s fine, I’ll just take a shower,” Leo muttered, still lost in his thoughts. He needed a cold shower to clear his thoughts. Guang Hong had the personality and the marketing skills to bring him to the top. Best of all, he made Leo’s heart flutter when he smiled and a blush that ignited the candles in Leo’s chest. He burned the butterflies and turned their ashes into phoenixes. Leo needed someone to take his temperature because the yellow fever was real.

“And, um, are you sure? We could save a lot of water if we take a bath _together_.”

“I’m sure. Thanks for the offer,” Leo said without looking at the boy behind him. If he spared a glance, Leo would have noticed Guang Hong stripping down to his teddy-bear boxers and playing with the hem, teasing the smoothness of his pelvis.

“Well, I’m just going to go take a bath in that nice, big tub. Hopefully, I won’t feel too lonely by myself.”

“The bathroom's not that big. Don’t worry,” Leo assured him.

Guang pouted, groaned, and left the room.

The faucet was running when Leo received the text message of Guang Hong’s selfie of his backside in the mirror. Leo was about to text back that he could take his time with the shower—he didn’t mind the wait—when the implication hit him like a bus to a building.

Leo dashed out of his seat and ran into the bathroom door in an attempt to get inside. With a swollen eye and on the cusp of a rather serious concussion, Leo slammed the doors open to see a relieved, naked and if we’re being honest, _godly patient_ Guang Hong Ji.

Leo tried to stutter out his response when Guang Hong walked up to him, reached up to the back of his head to bring him down for a kiss. Their lips brushed against each other before Guang Hong lost his patience and really kissed him.  _With tongue._

Damn, Leo was good.

“Now take off your clothes so you can join me in the bath,” Guang Hong commanded.  

Leo almost fell shimmying out of his jeans. Guang led the young man to the bathtub like a horse to water and boy was Leo thirsty.

“You’re so eager,” Leo noticed in awe.

Guang Hong giggled—the kind of giggle that amateur porn stars did while wearing a plaid skirt and pigtails. He laid Leo on the bottom of the tub and straddled his hips. Guang Hong continued to kiss him until all the man’s muscles were loose from passion, and most likely the heat of the tub.

“We’re going to need lube,” Guang Hong muttered after they parted. He flicked his tongue against Leo’s lips and the older boy shivers. Guang Hong grabbed a bottle of body wash and poured a huge dollop onto his fingers.

Leo turned red. “I’m pretty sure that’s not going to work.”

“It will if we play with it enough,” Guang Hong teased.

“Play with what— _Oh._ ” Leo nodded eagerly as he reached for the bottle. He dropped it initially, picked it up and dropped it again. Guang Hong let out a little laugh that could have been a snort, much to Leo’s shame. Finally, Guang Hong took it back from him and slathered it over Leo’s fingers. He guided both their hands to his hole and pressed them inside one at a time for a slick ride.

“Ah…” Guang Hong moaned. Guang Hong only used his hands for a second before wrapping his arms around Leo to let the older man do most of the work. He nuzzled his head against Leo’s neck to contain all his soft moans and giggles. He loved getting fingered. Leo acted like a child with a new toy, adding thumbs and pinkies, stretching him out with a pair of adult scissors. The soap dripped from his backside and down his thighs. Soon, Guang Hong could no longer contain himself and his heavy pants were pulsing against Leo’s ear. The older boy’s erection was furiously rubbing against Guang’s spread thighs and the friction meshed with the sluttish, squelching noises coming from the fingering.

Guang Hong pulled back in order to cradle Leo’s face in his hands.

“Are you ready?” Guang murmured.

Leo nodded quickly, hoping that his lustfulness would override his nerves. Guang Hong kissed him again and carefully rested on Leo’s cock until it was pressing against his hole. Leo’s breath hitched. He pulled Guang Hong’s face down and smothered their lips together to cover up the sounds. Slowly, Leo entered him until Guang Hong was fully seated on Leo’s lap and chock full of cock. They groaned at the sensation.

“You’re so soft inside…” Leo moaned in awe. Once he got past the sphincter, it was like jelly on the inside. He tried to move and the friction made Guang Hong gasp delightfully. “And tight.”

Guang Hong giggled. He pecked Leo’s check and whispered that it would be better if he started to move. “I’m yours,” Guang Hong promised. “Do whatever you want.”  

Leo swallowed and complied. He thrust upward in an experimental gesture and was surprised when Guang Hong shuddered in delight.

“Again,” he demanded, all needy and wanton.

More confident than ever, Leo gripped both sides of hips and started to thrust at a steady pace, getting out of his head and more immersed inside Guang Hong’s welcoming hole, squeezing and sucking in his cock whenever he tried to pull out. Guang kept a firm hold in his hair, gasping and whimpering whenever they moved together. It wasn’t long before Leo’s breathing started to change. He got more eager with his thrust, hitting Guang’s prostate a number of times. Leo reveled in the sounds Guang Hong made whenever he got close. Each drag of his cock through Guang Hong’s soap-slicked ass had his breathing hitching and his pleasure spiking to the room. The water became lukewarm but the two of them burning hot. The next time Leo thrust upwards, Guang Hong made an effort to grind his hips against the head of his cock. Leo released a throaty, almost embarrassing groan. He felt Guang do it again and again, now less focused on Leo and more concerned with his oncoming orgasm.

“Come on, Leo, you feel so good. I want to come. Please, please, please…” Guang Hong begged. He could tell Leo appreciated the encouragement. The young man kept his original pace but began to thrust in deeper, hitting Guang Hong’s prostate with frightening precision. Guang Hong struggled to sit upright and it wasn’t long before he was slumped against Leo’s chest, just losing himself to the sensation. Without thinking, Leo used his free hand to grab Guang Hong’s cock and started to stroke him into completion.

“Leo!” Guang Hong shouted, between aghast and pleasure. Before long, his pleasure was building at the base of his spine and after a few more thrusts, he let out a loud scream. Cum spurted between their chests and sullied the water with soiled tinge.

Leo’s chest swelled up with pride. He came first, Leo thought giddily, though he was not far off. Following shortly with a few thrusts in Guang Hong’s much, much looser bottom, Leo pulled Guang Hong into another kiss and shot a huge load into Guang’s ass. Guang clutched at his body and felt his new lover grow soft inside him until they were both slumped against the bathtub with heavy breaths.

“That was amazing,” Leo breathed out. He struggled to get out of the tub but in the end, the weight of his partner weighed him down. “Guang Hong?”  

Guang Hong turned around and smiled shyly. “Maybe we could stay a little longer. _I’m_ _so_ _tired_. You really wore me out.”

Leo blushed. “The water is getting cold…”

“But I like this tub.” Guang Hong paddled his feet like a child and the bubbles rose to the surface. “I always wanted one like this. Too bad my apartment only has a shower.” Guang pouted before kissing the sides of Leo’s neck.

Leo shivered. He brought his hand to Guang Hong’s hair and gently entangled his fingers within the strands to massage the scalp.

“Maybe I’ll get you a new tub,” Leo murmured.

“Really?” Guang Hong asked happily. His joy disappeared as soon as it came. He pouted so prettily as he complained, “Ah, but my landlord would never allow it. And my roommate would end up hogging it anyways. It’s such a shame. I would have loved to have you over…”

Guang Hong trailed off after his lips moved to Leo’s ear and he started nibbling. Leo’s breath hitched. “I could help you move out,” Leo offered, a little entranced by Guang’s ministrations.

“I don’t think I can find another place on my budget. Living alone is expensive…” Guang Hong told him as a hickey began to form underneath Leo’s ear.

“Maybe I can…help…ah…” Guang Hong’s hand brushed over his soft cock and gave it a nice, gentle rub. The perfect grip for something so sensitive. “I have an apartment in the city. You could stay with me until you find a better place.”

“That sounds great!” Guang Hong chirped. Leo watched as Guang Hong got up from the tub and revealed his tight ass and creamy backside. “How about we get ourselves dried up and talk more about ourselves? I have a ton of pictures I have to upload for Instagram.”   

Leo wondered if he should be worried about the ease with which Guang Hong was able to get him to agree to things. His thoughts were shut down when Guang Hong, from the bed, asked him to get out of the tub to ‘test out the sheets.’

“They’re so soft, Leo!” Guang Hong announced. Leo swore he could hear the flowers blooming around him. “It would be so much fun to cuddle on.”

Leo contemplated his options before getting out of the tub.

Leo did love cuddling.

***

Two months past their one-year anniversary and another number one hit produced, Leo was in LA being interviewed for a women’s magazine. They cooed over Leo and Guang Hong’s meet-cute—a wonderful romance crafted by some of the world’s greatest PR masters—and talked about their recent trip to Hawaii with Guang Hong’s family. Leo answered every question with a smile. He especially loved the praises that were induced whenever they pulled up a picture from Guang Hong’s Instagram.

“Is it true you paid for the entire trip?” The interviewer asked. “That’s so sweet,” she told him in a manner that was distinctively condescending. She was one of a pair doing the story and was definitely the sharper of the two—in all aspects. It was clear from her first few questions that her respect for Instagram models was limited. Most of her insinuations had been about Guang Hong’s materialism—which, in all fairness, were true—but Leo certainly did not appreciate any of them. Guang Hong may be a golddigger, but he was _Leo’s golddigger_.

Leo tightened his hand as he answered. “Well, I was meeting his parents for the first time so I wanted to make a good impression. They’re very traditional. I’m just grateful they were able to give me the chance.”  

“I’m sure being one of the world’s youngest and wealthiest music producers must have helped with that?”

“Well, Guang Hong isn’t doing too poorly himself,” Leo reminded. He smiled with pride. “Last I checked, he was one of the highest paid Instagram models of the year.”

“Which would have never happened if you weren’t with him. Buying most of the gifts he posted. Introducing him to all the right people.”

“Nice things aren’t what gets you to the top,” Leo defended, a little aggressively for his own tastes. He tried to cool himself down. “Guang Hong is one of the sweetest people I’ve ever met. He’s also highly skilled at what he does, which is why he plays an active role in my company's social media management, as well as my own PR. I am grateful to have him as my lover and partner and I can’t imagine being without him.”

There was an audible awe coming from the side, bringing attention to the second interviewee. Both parties could see the hearts in her eyes. Ever the romantic, she began to take the reins in the interview, pulling the attention from the first girl. “How serious do you think this relationship is getting? Are there wedding bells in the future?”

Leo blushed in embarrassment. He was so much cooler than this, he thought. “Uh, we haven’t talked about that yet…” Leo scratched the back of his head.

“I thought you said you wanted to be with him forever?”

“Well, yes but—”

“Or is this a fling?” The other, solemn girl narrowed her eyes. “Or maybe a publicity stunt?”

“No! I’m completely serious about Guang Hong—”

“Why don’t you want to marry him?”

“I do!” Leo shouted. Panic overshadowed his face. “I mean, we’re very young—”

“So you’re just waiting?”

“Yes!” Leo wanted to say no but it was too late. He could see the producers in the background readying their notes. Suddenly, he remembered that while this interview would be edited, he would not get to proofread the final product. He would have to wait until it appeared in print. And so would Guang Hong. “But only when we’re ready!” He then remembered that Guang Hong’s parents could understand English. “And definitely not until he finishes college!”

The girl laughed and even the bitter one stifled a chuckle. Leo sighed.

_Safe._

***

_“I want my ring to be big, Leo. Big. I want a Coast Guard to look at my hand and tell me I can’t get in the water because he’s afraid I’ll drown.”_

Leo sighed in embarrassment. “I panicked.”

Guang Hong gasped dramatically. _“So you don’t want to marry me?”_

“Guang Hong,” Leo groaned. “Please.”

The Chinese student laughed. _“I know, I know. But I really like the gesture. I’ve been getting DMs all day congratulating me. And you should see the offers I’ve been getting! Tiffany’s and Gucci contacted me for my rates. Apparently, getting a guy like Leo de la Iglesia to fall in love with you means you’re selling something right. I was thinking I could try and score a better ring if I do some work with Harry Winston...”_

Leo smiled despite the teasing. “I’m glad it’s working out for you.” And he meant it— _finally_.

Early on in their relationship, Leo remembered being anxious about Guang Hong’s newfound success. Each paycheck his lover received was another paycheck he didn’t need from Leo. The less he relied on his sugar daddy, the more insecure Leo got; it resulted in horrible arguments, jealous accusations, and a fight that eventually had them almost severing their contract for good. Leo became one of those guys who only wanted their partners beneath them so that they could control them.

It was only after Phichit slyly suggested he find Leo another partner, one far more _submissive_ and far less _ambitious_ , that Leo realized he didn’t want anyone else. He wanted Guang Hong. Guang Hong, who randomly quotes movie lines and went to Hollywood Hills once a month to stalk celebrities. Guang Hong, who cockblocked Leo for a week because the older man did not pat his butt in public once and it made him feel neglected.

Leo didn’t want someone who did what he was told. And Guang Hong knew this when he came back to him, after threatening to cut the bitch he was interviewing. “I want someone who wants what I want because it’s what they want, too.” Guang Hong told him. His replacement was in the elevator crying, probably mourning the loss of his hair after Guang Hong set it on fire.

“I want nice things. And a green card,” Guang Hong admitted, and proudly, too. “I want to be famous. I want to live in a mansion with a lot of adopted kids because I’m from China and you’re Mexican, and we both know those countries are just shipping kids out by the boatload. No wall is going to stop them." Guang Hong paused to think. "I want people to want to be me. I want my haters to be foaming at the mouth at our happiness. I want my parents to brag about the man I ended up with to my aunts and uncles and have them use me as an example as to why my cousins are failures.” Guang Hong glared at him with determination. “Now, what do you want?”

God, that sounded good. Leo nodded eagerly. “I want that,” Leo confessed. “I want all of that. With you.”

Guang Hong smiled in triumph. That night, Leo revealed everything to Guang Hong. Including everything about his past, Viktor, and how his entire career revolved around being a front for the Russian mafia. Instead of being afraid or troubled, Guang Hong took it in stride. 

“I would have done the same,” Guang Hong admitted. He smiled. “Besides, I sleep with you for money so potato, tomato?”

The acceptance turned Leo on to no end. “You could go to jail as an accomplice."

"We'll come up with an alibi."

Leo's heart swooned at the 'we.'

"You’re really okay with it?”

Guang Hong shrugged. “It’s a necessary evil.”

Leo could no longer help himself. He tackled his lover on the floor. “I like you,” he told him, honestly and with all the weight of his heart. “I really, really like you. Even if you weren’t cute. Or good at sex.”

Guang Hong giggled. “I like you, too. Even without the money. Probably.”

Leo laughed back then. They made love for an entire weekend. They talked about everything. Leo loved that they didn’t have secrets. That for once in his life, Leo had a confidant and a friend and a lover all in one. He could complain about his stress without worrying that the police were at his doorstep. 

_“…We should visit Chile for fall break. I like hearing you speak Spanish and we haven’t been to South America recently.”_

Leo left his memories to resume his conversation. Instead of answering, however, he took note of another detail. “I like it when you do that.”

_“Do what?”_

“When you use words like ‘we’ and ‘us.’ It makes me feel like we’re a team.”

 _“We are a team,”_ Guang Hong reminded him. _“The fact that you pay my bills doesn’t change that. That’s your job.”_

“Oh? And what’s your job?” Leo teased.

 _“Taking care of you,”_ Guang Hong replied. “ _And your needs._ ”  

Leo tried not to smile. “And what are my needs?”

 _“Well, for one thing, you need to relax. You work too hard,”_ Guang Hong scolded.

“So you’re going to get me to relax?” Leo leaned back in his chair. “How are you going to do that?”

 _“I have a few ideas.”_ Guang Hong hummed. _“Especially for when you come home. Maybe get on my knees and welcome you back. But I might get a little eager and swallow more than I can handle. Just force the head down my throat until I choke.”_

Leo unzipped his jeans. “R-really?”

_“Or, I could surprise you in bed. You’d be pretty tired after a long flight. I bet you wouldn’t even notice if I just crawled under the sheets and force you inside me. I would ride you all night until you were creaming inside me. I’d keep you nice and warm. I bet you like that.”_

Hell yeah, he would. A dozen curse words, both English and Spanish, flowed through his head. He stroked himself harder. “W-what else?”

Guang Hong giggled over the phone. “ _Well, I can’t be the only one missing you. I’ve been working so hard being a good boy. It’s not fair. I get so many offers but all I can think of is you.”_

“What offers?” Leo growled.  

 _“Oh, just some nobodies sending me messages and trying to put dollars in my pockets. I never say yes,”_ Guang Hong reassured. _“But I might need a better incentive.”_

“Is that right?” Leo muttered darkly. Guang Hong was smiling over the phone. He could hear it. 

_“All I think about is you when they talk to me,”_ Guang Hong moaned. _“I think about your lips and you suck me down and milk me dry. No other daddy could do that. No one likes me as much as you do.”_

Leo rubbed himself quicker, really getting the slick of precum all over his cock. “I love the way you taste, baby.”

_“I love hearing you swallow it all down. I wish you would do it more.”_

Leo could spend years drunk between those thighs. “I wish I could do it more,” Leo groaned as he neared his completion.

“ _Then you better home soon.”_

“Wha—?” Without warning, Guang Hong hung up the phone. Leo was left alone in his hotel with a thick, aching cock and an unfinished fantasy. He immediately called his assistant to book a flight, only for the older woman—because Guang Hong refused to let him work with an attractive millennial—tell him that his boyfriend already prepared a first-class ticket.

“You two are such a good couple,” she praised.

Leo grinned. “We really are.”

***

Guang Hong followed up their conversations by grabbing coffee with Yuuri.

“Thanks for coming out here. I would have spoken to Phichit but—”

“But Phichit gets a little intense,” Guang agreed knowingly. He grabbed his latte and Yuuri’s Frappuccino and walked out. “What did you want to talk about?”

“Well, me and Vi- _my daddy_ are signing our contract today.”

“Oh! Congratulations!” Guang Hong cheered. “What’s he like? What does he do? Is he nice?”

Yuuri smiled softly. “He’s a businessman and he’s very successful.” Yuuri thought better than to use names. He read in the contract that Viktor preferred discretion. “I don’t even know why he’s looking for a baby. I mean, _he’s gorgeous_ and wonderful and generous to a fault—”

“So are you,” Guang Hong pointed out.

“Not like him,” Yuuri muttered. “I just, I want to make him _happy_. I don’t him to be disappointed by his choice.”

Guang Hong turned red from excitement. Yuuri was so cute! “You must really like him.”

Yuuri nodded. “I do.” The affection in Yuuri’s voice and the way he smiled said it all. Guang Hong smiled sympathetically.

“Yuuri, is there another reason you wanted to speak to me?” Guang Hong suggested.

The insinuation made Yuuri jump in the air. After a few helpless stutters and misconstrued clarifications, Yuuri gave up. He sunk his head and nodded dismally.

“Yuuri…” Guang Hong egged on. “Do you _like him_ , like him?”

Yuuri blushed. “…Is there more than one way to like someone?”

“ _Oh, Yuuri_ ,” Guang Hong sighed. “You do like him.”

“Isn’t that a good thing?” Yuuri asked. “Shouldn’t I want to spend time with him?”

“Yes,” Guang Hong agreed tiredly. “But not at the expense of your heart. Have you talked about what happens if one of you wanted to have a…” Guang Hong struggled to find the words. “…a romantic relationship?”

Yuuri shook his head.

Guang Hong wagged his finger disapprovingly. “Well, you should. You don’t want to get to the point where it gets serious but only one of you wants to keep it business.”

Yuuri wished it was so simple for him. “What about you and your daddy? I read your interview. Are you two…together? Like a couple?”

“We’re not _like_ a couple. We are a couple,” Guang Hong corrected. “But the contract made it easy to see if we’re going to be a good one. Being a baby is more than pleasure, it’s about providing each other’s needs.”

Yuuri just wanted to finish school and a full stomach. “I don’t need a lot. It’d be nice not to have any debt, and I want to chip in for groceries and pay some of the bills…”

Guang Hong shook his head and sighed. Yuuri suddenly felt very small.

“Look at this watch.” Guang Hong pulled up the gorgeous Chanel piece with a diamond bezel. “Do you think I needed this watch? Yes. This watch alone got me over two hundred likes within the first 30 seconds. Did Leo need a blowjob in the middle of a recording session? _No_. Yet someone how the two went together.”

Yuuri stared.

“And look at this bag.” It was a metallic red MCM backpack that held one textbook and a few thousand dollars’ worth of Apple products. “I didn’t need this bag. But Leo _did_ need a massage after a long work day dealing with a heroin-addicted diva who was getting on his last nerve. So he gave it to me as a thank you.”  

“I…”

“Yuuri,” Guang Hong stated, uncharacteristically serious. “Being a baby is like being one half of an arranged marriage. You tell each other what you’re looking for and hopefully, you’re a match. It’s more than gifts and cash. Sometimes, you end up feeling something for each other, or in your case, you already feel something. But if you don’t know what to do with those feelings, one person ends up giving up more than the other. And then there’s resentment. People don’t want to feel like they’re the ones getting the short end of a relationship.”

Yuuri gulped. The last thing he wanted was to put Viktor in that position.

Guang Hong thought of Leo and smiled to himself. “Do you know why Leo and I decided to take the next step?”

Yuuri shook his head.

“Because we're honest with each other. We decided that no matter how many problems there were—and there were a lot of problems—” Oh, Guang Hong could tell stories. “—we would be okay as long as being with each other is a better alternative than being without each other. That’s what you call a relationship.”  

Guang Hong thought about the nights he spent on the lanai with Leo’s arms wrapped around him. Sometimes, they didn’t do anything but cuddle and it was the best feeling in the world. He felt warm and safe and protected because Leo was there and that was all that matter. He thought about all the close calls with law enforcement, all the mistakes that almost ended up with his Visa being revoked, and everything else that made he doubt their relationship. He also thought about their conversations late at night, and how they dreamed of conquering the world. He loved his gifts; but in the end, he loved those moments more.

Yuuri fiddled with his fingers and picked at the dead skin between his nails. He was nervous as he asked his final question.

“How do I…how do I make him think it's better with me?”

Guang Hong rubbed his ring finger in preparation of its future companion.

“Every daddy feels like they’re missing something. All you have to do is be there when they get it.” He smiled. "Then, you make him think it's you who gave it to him."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome everyone to the new year! I’m sorry for not updating in so long and the pace of this chapter. I haven’t written anything in a while so my writing is a bit stiff, especially since I was unsure of how to write Guang Hong and Leo. 
> 
> Guang Hong and Leo were hard characters for me to write since they weren’t given a lot of dimension in the show. I know from the fanbook that Guang Hong is a yankophile and really loves western culture (the clothes, the food, etc.) but that’s about it (besides his love of Instagram—which led to the Instagram model thing). 
> 
> Leo was given even less attention and that was extremely hard to work with. 
> 
> In my original outline, I made Leo an exaggerated Latin lover who was actively involved in the mafia business. But one of the things I loved about Yuri on Ice was that for once, the token American was not a blonde hair/blue eyed and white. I kept thinking: “Fuck, I can’t make him a stereotype. I just can’t.” 
> 
> Regardless of what happens next chapter, I want to thank everyone for their patience in waiting for an update. I hope my next chapter will come much faster (and regularly) and I also hope I enjoyed writing it more than I enjoyed writing this one. Have a lovely day!


	11. Chapter 11

More than ever, Phichit felt like a disgruntled father-in-law giving away his daughter for marriage. Viktor Nikiforov, for all his riches, was no better than a run of the mill, chain-smoking, motorcycle-driving, gun-wielding chauvinist who planned on having their wedding at a bar and their honeymoon in the bathroom. Phichit wondered if he would have preferred such a scenario to the one at hand. Viktor’s enormous grin as he watched Yuri dot his I’s and cross his t’s—literally in fact—was one to churn the stomach. The Thai native reluctantly tucked the papers away. Stalling for time, he continued to play mediator for a war already won.

“So, I hope you enjoy your new arrangement to the fullest. If any problems should ever arise…”

“They won’t,” Viktor assured. He smiled at Yuuri and reached out to stroke his hand. Yuuri blushed. He was a blusher. A horrible blusher. Phichit used to find it cute until other people did, too. It was like learning that other people were finally discovering your favorite band. “I would never let anything bad happen to him.”

“Too late,” Phichit said with a smile, not a tone out of place “Regardless, we should prepare for the worst instead of relying on hope for the best. I have a contingency exit—”

“Perhaps I should lock him away,” Viktor countered. He stared at Yuuri with a playful smile that contrasted the sharpness in his eyes. “Keep him all to myself. All for me to fondle and play with…” He leaned into Yuuri. “Wouldn’t you like that, Yuuri?”

Viktor’s suggestion was affecting Yuuri, who swayed to the song like a sailor caught by a siren. Phichit supposed that was what Viktor was—a kidnapping, soul-snatching, silver-haired siren hellbent on drowning Yuuri down the blue depths of depravity.

“I wouldn’t mind…” Yuuri mumbled, cheeks as bulbous and red as a drunk squirrel.

Phichit chewed his lower lip in frustration. Yuuri was ignoring him in favor of Viktor’s (admittingly) flawless face. He loved his best friend, but sometimes, the boy was as shallow as a kiddie pool. 

“ _Anyways_ ,” Phichit continued. “You have my number, Yuuri. Don’t let him talk you into anything you’re not comfortable with.”

“Oh, I’ll make him very comfortable,” Viktor suggested. “So comfortable he won’t ever want to leave my side.”

Phichit turned to him with a glare. “I wasn’t talking to you.”

Viktor ignored the boy, having long regarded him as no better than a glorified pimp. He slid his hand on top of Yuuri’s thighs. Those thick, luscious thighs.

Viktor licked his lips. “Are you looking forward to tonight, my sweet piglet?” The term of endearment was odd, and while it brought back several self-esteem issues on Yuuri’s end, it simultaneously got him slightly… _bothered_. Yuuri knew how enamored Viktor was with his curves. The acknowledgment towards his _softer regions_ , especially in such an erotic light, made him start to appreciate his form as of late. 

Yuuri used to hate how quickly he gained weight. When he was younger, he wasn't small enough to continue ballet. When he promised to try harder, Minako explained that the reason most dancers looked a certain way was that children who didn't have the "potential," otherwise known as the "right" figure, were weeded out young. So she recommended ice skating for the leeway, and Yuuri grew to love it beyond any stage on land. Still, a part of him remained resentful of his genetics. Because that was bulk of it: genetics. It was a myth that sports would permanently change the body. He could work off most of his fat during training, but unless he were in competition mode his entire life, he would gain at least some of the weight back.  

But with Viktor, he was overcome with the urge to do some flaunting, maybe even wear something tight to emphasize his jiggles. The filthiness of his thoughts made him burn with embarrassment.

“Viktor!” Yuuri whined. He hoped his shame would come through loud enough to cover his arousal.

Viktor chuckled. “I can’t help myself. Soon, I get to have you all to myself.” 

Phichit rolled his eyes.   

“I just want to lay you on my kitchen table and cover you with cream,” Viktor purred. “Lick it off you, starting from the top. Your cute belly, your sweet nipples...” Yuuri bit his lip. “That could be our third date,” Viktor said suggestively. Especially since their first date consisted of an alcohol-induced stupor and a blatant kidnapping while the second was a buffet of debauchery and deception. The third date would probably be the same but at least both people will be consenting, which, as Viktor was informed, was the preferable option between the three. 

“O-oh, I have school tomorrow,” Yuuri reminded reluctantly. He sounded so disappointed. “Maybe I can—”

Before Yuuri could finish his sentence, Phichit reminded him of his priorities. Because he had them and they were not Viktor Nikiforov—despite what the man wanted him to believe. “Remember you’re doing this for school. You don’t have to listen to him for everything. He doesn’t own you.”

“Not yet,” Viktor muttered, as he rubbed Yuuri’s thigh like it was a magic lamp.

“Not ever,” Phichit hissed.

“Don’t you have something to do?” Viktor asked. “Or someone?” His smile was tight, but still present. Phichit wanted to bitch slap it off his face. “Self-employed is still employed.”

Phichit snorted. He had the type of deluded shamelessness that made him impossible to insult. “Well, I may deal in bodies, but at least I don’t own a booth in the black market.”

“At least I can afford a booth, _nyet_?” Under his breath but loud enough for Phichit to hear, he whispered, “I am not the one peddling my goods like a common streetwalker.”

Lightning crackled through their eyes. The showdown went over Yuuri’s head, who found Viktor’s hand going pleasantly higher despite the interaction before him. The student thought about what would happen if he just went _a bit_ further—ah! Yuuri shook his head before any dirtier images flashed before his eyes.  He was such a pervert! And in public, too!

“Maybe we should get started,” Yuuri suggested hurriedly. Both eyes turned to him. He looked down and tried not to sound too eager. “I mean; this is Viktor’s time. We should spend it how he wants it." Yuuri was squirming in his seat as he said so, squishy as a sponge and just as wet. Viktor’s heart skipped a beat. He wanted to eat him up.

Yuuri’s input escorted Phichit away better than any guard or bouncer. With a frown, Phichit got his bag and hugged Yuuri goodbye. Yuuri squeezed him so tightly he swore his heart would burst. “Thank you,” Yuuri whispered. His eyes were glowing with delight. “This wouldn’t have happened without you.”

"Don’t remind me," Phichit muttered. Nonetheless, he left. He told himself that at the very least, Yuuri was happy. Even though it _just freaking killed_ him to watch them together.

***

“Finally.” Viktor let out a gracious breath upon Phichit’s departure. He turned his gaze towards Yuuri, who was consumed by his nerves. So much so, that he spilled his wine the second his friend left.

“I-I’m sorry!” He stuttered out. When the waiter came by to help, Viktor requested a check. Yuuri proceeded to drink the last of his water.

“We should get back to my place,” Viktor advised. “I prepared a few gifts for our celebration that’s better opened… _privately_.”

Yuuri choked on his wine. “V-Viktor?” He tried to cough out the remains in his throat, but everything was stuck. It didn’t help that his pounding heart seemed to be blocking the passageway to his stomach. Viktor didn’t seem to mind though if his smile was any indication.

“Yuuri, there’s no time like the present! No more sneaking around! No more contracts or transactions—we all know those things are bullshit anyways. Making love should be an act of passion, not paperwork!” Viktor cried, a touch dramatic but hopelessly entertaining. Yuuri had to giggle. The older man was whining like a teething toddler, and it was endearing, to both their delight. He got in close. “I want to live life. Not have dinner with the dead,” he whispered in his ear. "Unless I am fucking you on that table." 

Yuuri stopped choking. His breath caught in his throat.

Finally, Yuuri gathered some composure, coupled with confidence he was convinced Phichit accidentally left behind. “Do you dine with the dead often?” He joked, a little shy and insecure of his humor, but a smile on his lips nonetheless.

Viktor smiled wryly. “Some of my best secret keepers are dead men.”

 _Oh_ , Yuuri could spend all day relishing in the smoothness of the Nikiforov. His arousal urged his nodding, and obedient to Viktor’s whims, he was silent when the man paid their bill. He was led into the limousine which was odd in its familiarity. He remembered the feel of the leather against his skin and the almost hospital-level cleanliness filling up his nose. Yuuri didn’t have time to dwell on his déjà vu. Instead, he opened himself up to the onslaught of kisses. He whimpered as the Russian climbed on top of his lap and pried open his mouth with his tongue. When Viktor finished ravishing Yuuri’s mouth, he moved south to the boy’s neck and started to kiss and nip on the pale flesh until there was a trail of hickeys to his chest, like footsteps in the snow. Yuuri tangled his fingers in his hair and dragged him down lower; one hand was tugging on his shirt while the other was unbuttoning Viktor’s top. The Russian pulled away chuckling, giving one long lick of the neck before he moved to the other side.

Yuuri was a torrid mess of hormones and heat. He tried to follow for more kisses, but Viktor stopped him.

“No,” Viktor demanded roughly. He was smirking, but there was a heaviness in his breath that made it clear he was far from unaffected. Yuuri was a vision. He laid on the other side of the car with love-bitten skin and hot flesh, throbbing for a touch.

Viktor closed his eyes. He took a deep breath. “Take off your clothes.”

Yuuri gasped without thinking.

“Take off your clothes,” Viktor repeated, trying to keep the strain out of his voice. “ _Before I take them off for you_.” He wanted to open his eyes so badly. He wanted to see the boy stutter and blush again as he slowly stripped, and watch his eyes get teary with embarrassment. The scene in the restaurant brought enough filth to put porn stars out of business, but Yuuri was now touchable, malleable, and  _his. That_  was going to bring Viktor over the edge faster than any blowjob ever will.

Praying for the strength to not fuck the boy upon sight, Viktor opened his eyes. His hands were shaking, each button taking minutes to undo. By the time Yuuri was on his third, Viktor had long lost his patience.

“Stop.”

Yuuri stopped. He looked up at Viktor with a trembling lip, utterly distraught for having disappointed him. His eyes widened with the purity of a child, yet he contained a sensuality that warded off any guilt Viktor may have felt for leading this sweet boy astray. There wasn't a lot. Nikiforovs don't feel guilty for taking what they deserve.

Viktor regretted his decision to stall. He wanted to ruin this gorgeous creature so horribly, it hurt. More specifically— _it_ _throbbed_.

“Viktor?” Yuuri asked, docile as a lamb.

Viktor gritted his teeth. He tried to smile, but it must have come off as predatory, for Yuuri startled and looked away.

“Yuuri,” Viktor addressed. He swallowed and tried to fake some gentleness. He had some—he should, at least, if Makkachin’s affection was any indication. “Why don’t we play a little game?” He muttered eyes narrowed into a devious slit.

Yuuri was confused, but at least he was looking at Viktor again. “A game?”

Viktor took out his wallet. He glanced over at Yuuri and did a quick count, before taking an indiscriminate amount of bills. He threw a hundred on the ground. “Take off your shirt.”

Yuuri felt his heart drop. Benjamin Franklin was staring at him, lifeless and cold and judgingly. Even though only three buttons were undone, he felt colder than he ever had in his entire life.

“V-Viktor? What are you doing?” Yuuri stuttered out.

Viktor didn’t say anything. He merely smiled and threw another hundred on the ground. “I want you to take off your shirt.” A third bill was tossed out, hitting Yuuri’s leg like a whip. “Then, your pants.” Another hundred. “Your shoes.” And finally, one dropped at his feet. “And your underwear. I want them all off.”

Viktor leaned back while his cock fought against his zipper. Yuuri’s eyes welled up with unfallen tears. He looked tantalizing; his discomfort contrasted his arousal. Viktor always kept an eye on that sweet cock, whether it was a conscious effort or not, and its pulsing nature was more than enough to encourage Viktor. Yuuri wanted to be humiliated; this excellent thing was born to be _taken apart_.

Yuuri bit his lip. “I’m n-not a, I’m not a stripper,” Yuuri told him, soft but resilient. His declaration was a surprise to Viktor, who thought he’d fucked the resilience out of him nights ago. Viktor licked his lips; more turned on than ever.

Turned out there’s more to his little piglet than meets the eye.

Viktor couldn’t remember the last time he wanted someone so much.

The Nikiforov took out every single bill he had in his wallet, a mess of twenties, hundreds, ones, fives, tens, and folded them together. Yuuri’s eyes honed in on the cash enviously.

“Look at me.”

Yuuri looked.

Viktor smiled and slipped the cash next to Yuuri’s seat.

Yuuri held his breath. Viktor chuckled so that his warm breath brushed against Yuuri’s skin. He squeezed the student’s thigh. “That’s yours,” he whispered, deep and huskily.

Yuuri was sure there was at least a thousand there. His body heated up, but heeding Phichit’s words, he asked the first thing he should have asked weeks ago. “How?”

Viktor was amused. He returned to his seat and spread his legs so that Yuuri could see the bulging outline of his cock. “Show me,” he ordered. “Show me what a grateful little whore you can be when your daddy’s providing for you.”

Yuuri held his breath. After a second’s worth of contemplation, Yuuri took off his glasses. He rested them right on the cash. Perhaps he thought that not seeing Viktor’s face would lessen the tension, or maybe, he was tired of hiding. Either way, Viktor silently groaned at the sight.

Yes, he thought. This was the other side he wanted to see. This was the side Yuuri reserved for him and no one else.

Yuuri brought his fingers to his shirt. His movements were faster this time, surer, but no less sensual. He kept his eyes on Viktor’s and seemed to be following the older man’s reaction as much as he was being followed.

Predator and prey, Viktor thought.

When Yuuri finished, he slipped the shirt off his shoulders and spread his legs. He was blushing but made no effort to protest any further. Not for the first time since they met, Viktor noticed the heat in his eyes when he was aroused. After meeting him sober, Viktor assumed it was the alcohol, but now he wondered if he was mistaken. Perhaps Yuuri carried more darkness in his soul than anyone cared to admit.

“How divine…” Viktor whispered.

If Yuuri heard him, he said nothing. Instead, he arched his back to pull down his pants, slowly running them down his calves and thighs. His skin was smooth and fair, like two streams of molted white chocolate.

Viktor salivated; at one point, he realized he had no choice but to unzip his pants. His cock perked up at the prospect of freedom. Viktor grabbed his member and started to fuck into his fist. Yuuri became red at the blatant display but he didn’t stop. It was clear he enjoyed the attention, and Viktor enjoyed giving it to him. Bold, Yuuri opened his mouth and started to moan. “Daddy…”

Viktor squeezed his head to stop himself from coming. “Filthy slut,” Viktor whispered. “Do you like my cock?”

Yuuri licked his lips. He was naked except for his boxers and shoes and was already in the process of kicking the latter off when Viktor spoke. He fluttered his eyelashes prettily (purposely? Viktor wondered). “I like it,” he breathed out. “It’s…it’s very nice.”

How adorably honest, Viktor thought, just like the Yuuri he grew to know.

Viktor wondered how many layers he could unravel in a single car ride.

“Do you think you want my _nice_ cock, Yuuri?” Viktor asked; he loosened his grip on his shaft and fucked his fist in short, staccato-like movements. He wanted this to last. “Do you like daddy’s cock? Do you want it inside you?”

Yuuri whimpered. He adjusted his seat for a better rub against his privates. He was smart enough to know not to touch, so he settled for light humps against the leather.

Good, Viktor mused. He was learning his place.

“I bet you want daddy to take care of you. That’s all your greedy cunt is good for—getting money from your daddy. Isn’t that right?”  

Yuuri swallowed. His entire body burned with shame. “Yes, daddy.”

“You can’t do a thing for yourself, can you?” Viktor’s breath hitched when Yuuri began to touch himself—not his cock, but his entire body. “Of course not, or else you wouldn’t need to fuck a man for money.” Yuuri groaned at the accusation. He fiddled with his nipples, pinching them until they swelled red. “Do you like it? Do you like spreading your legs for me? Renting out your pretty hole for a dollar?”

Yuuri tried to control his breathing. His hands tightened around his seat, inadvertently causing the bills around him to crinkle. The sound made his hole clench. The money was his; money he was given for fucking a man. Unable to speak, he nodded as an answer.

“Get rid of your boxers,” Viktor ordered.

Yuuri obeyed. He pulled his boxers down, making sure to slowly press his fingers against his creamy thighs to draw attention their softness. Viktor groaned at the sight. Fucking tease, he thought. When Yuuri finished, he was naked except for his socks. He spread his legs to show off his cock, and Viktor was right—it was just as pretty as his hole was.

Viktor took a few moments to drink in the sight of him. Finally, he let go of his cock and got on his knees. The position surprised Yuuri, who _almost_ dared to ask questions. Viktor rewarded his silence by hovering his mouth over Yuuri's cock.

Viktor kissed the tip first, which made Yuuri’s breath hitch. His tongue flicked against the glans next before Viktor wrapped his lips around the heads and started to swerve his tongue around the edges. He suckled like a babe nursing.

“D-daddy?” Yuuri stuttered out.

Viktor released the cock before chastising Yuuri for speaking. “Shh…daddy’s just going to clean you up a bit. Can’t have my baby all messy, can I?”

Viktor leaned in again and this time, took in almost half the cock inside his mouth, relishing in the taste of pre-cum. He bobbed his head up and down the shaft, clearly enjoying the boy’s natural sweetness. Yuuri struggled not to fall apart as Viktor gave him what he knew was going to be the best head of his life. Viktor, as a finale, let the head of Yuuri’s cock enter his throat and started to swallow, causing a rippling sensation. Yuuri shoved his hands over his mouth and came in a muffled scream. His ass was twitching wildly, clenching on an invisible cock.

Viktor swallowed, of course, proud of his excellent work. He got up on the seat next to Yuuri, admiring his high flush. The boy’s eyes were unfocused from his orgasm, and of course, his lack of vision. Smiling leisurely, Viktor pulled out a nicely wrapped gift box from his pocket.

“A present for my perfect boy,” he declared. “I want you to put them on.” His tone so sweet it almost sounded like a suggestion. Yuuri clutched onto the box, forcing his fingers to stay still while his whole body shook.

“Thank you, daddy,” Yuuri panted softly. He opened the lid, and his face flushed at once. Viktor grinned at his embarrassment.

Yuuri’s fingers pulled up the lacy fabric as one would a necklace. It was white with a string of pearls attached.

“The saleslady told me it was a favorite amongst brides. I thought it was fitting.”

Yuuri nodded absentmindedly. He thought about putting it to the side, but Viktor was watching. The older man helped him put it on, though his hands did linger on his thighs. Once in place, Yuuri shuddered. He could feel the pearls against the crack of his ass. Yuuri shut his eyes in shame and arousal. He never thought he’d ever been in the position to wear a pearl thong, but he couldn’t take it off. He didn’t want to, not when he could feel Viktor’s breath on his skin.

“You look gorgeous,” Viktor admitted. He stared at his shivering boy, and his cock reacted. It wanted to remind him that he was still hard, and a beautiful boy was willing to do whatever he liked in front of him. His eyes started to hone in on Yuuri’s chest. The boy was playing with them earlier, and while Viktor appreciated the show from afar, he had to admit: they looked better up close. Yuuri’s nipples were hard and red and absolutely delicious looking. He meant only to give them a quick lick, but his mouth lingered and he found himself milking them. He could never resist a nice pair of tits.

Viktor was aware that his oral fixation might be connected to a few mommy issues that were left unresolved. He decided, nonetheless, not to dwell on the matter. He could clear his mind with a few rounds of orgasms. His hand traveled to Yuuri’s soft cock and began to massage it despite the student’s mews of oversensitivity.

***

From the front seat, Georgi ducked his head in his hands and relished in his undoing. He knew when he bought the gift that Viktor wasn’t planning on checkers, but he wished he didn’t have to listen to the fruits of his labor.

Sometimes, he hated his job.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! Thank you for staying with me and keeping vigilant. I am trying my best to be more consistent and while it's a bit of a struggle, I hope to give you guys more chapters as soon as inspirations strike! So please enjoy the story! As a warning, chapters are probably going to be a little shorter now, because I want to update more often. What stays in motion and whatnot, and if I take another break, it'll be another couple of months. So here's to shorter, faster chapters! 
> 
> (Also please don't review just to tell me to update. I am happy people are excited about my story, but telling me "Update, it's been forever" is very different from "I love your story, I hope you update soon.") Nonetheless, I think my reviewers who have expressed their appreciation are wonderful. I will try to reply to some comments and I wanted to say so because I feel bad for being neglectful.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just smut. Very kinky smut that shows just how deranged Viktor is. And it's pretty short.

Yuuri’s hands tussled inside Viktor’s hair while the older man was slumped against his chest, sucking on the student’s tits like they contained the elixir of youth and Viagra. They arrived outside Viktor’s apartment fifteen minutes ago and made no moves to get out of the car. Yuuri filled the vehicle with tiny mews and whimpers; his body loosened from overstimulation and soreness. Viktor couldn't care less—he wanted to get his fill, regardless of anyone’s discomfort.

From the front seat, Georgi listened with mild apprehension. Viktor was a gorger. A child in every way; he ate his arousal until his belly was bulging, and with his cock spent, he found release in various methods. And unless Yuuri was as special as his boss made him out to be, the man would not be kind. He was violent, impatient, and clingy as velcro. 

More than anyone, Georgi was grateful when the suction noises stopped. He peeked in the window, and saw that Viktor’s lips were swollen from overuse. He almost looked like the whores he hired; beautiful and defiled—like an angel who was wronged. Yuuri was much worse for the wear. He spilled all over the leather seats while his nipples were on the verge of bleeding. The pearls of his thong were pressing bruises against his ass, and for the life of him, _his body could not move._

“You’re so soft,” Viktor praised. He started touching him again. He squeezed his belly, his nipples, his cock—anything that was Yuuri’s was now Viktor’s, and the man relished in his possession. He playfully slapped his waist and admired the ripples. "Look at them wave!" 

Yuuri sighed. “Viktor…”

“We should go inside,” Viktor suggested at once. He started giggling. “I have so many pretty things for you to try on.” Viktor’s fingers twitched. One of his men left the front seat to open their door before Viktor had another idea. “Don’t get dressed.”

Yuuri was just beginning to gather his strength when Viktor pulled out another bag. Black with fancy, overly indulgent wrapping. The type of thing that came from the upscale boutiques Phichit liked to shop at, but Yuuri wouldn't dare enter. “I was going to give this to you later, but I can’t wait. I can’t.” He was rambling. "You'll look so good. I swear." 

Yuuri waited patiently, not saying a word, even when a pair of white stockings and a lace suspender was pulled out. His face flushed, and mouth dropped, but still, he remained silent. He thought about expressing his disapproval, but the words escaped him. What good would it do to disobey? Viktor was not fond of the word ‘no’ and rather than risk an adverse reaction, Yuuri opted for the easier route. Submission. He was sure the man would appreciate his servility—and shouldn’t Yuuri give the man what he paid for?

“Put these on,” Viktor ordered. He was eager; his eyes filled with stars and a background adorn with hearts. Yuuri took the gift with a resigned smile and shook his head.

Viktor was such a child, Yuuri thought. It was cute, in a strange way.

“Slowly,” Viktor suggested once Yuuri had gotten the foot in. “I want to see it slide over your thighs. _They’re so thick_ , Yuuri. I can’t wait to put my face between them.”

Yuuri blushed, before obeying him. He slid each one over his calves and then moved onto his thighs. When he was finished, Yuuri took the suspenders and hooked his stockings on each one. After, the first, he looked up and saw that Viktor was staring at him with rapt attention and his breath caught like lace in the woods. He moved onto the next stocking and never left Viktor’s gaze as he worked the fabric up.

“ _Dermo_ ,” Viktor swore. Unable to control himself, Viktor took out his cock. “You’re so fucking beautiful.” Viktor’s cock throbbed as he slipped it back and forth into his fist. Instead of responding, Yuuri spread his legs further apart. He gave Viktor a good look at his cock, and balls hanging between his dolled-up legs. Viktor slowly sped up, and in his pants, Yuuri could see his heavy balls peeking through, ready to burst. Viktor groaned, the natural heat of climax building his gut. Just before he released, Viktor got closer. He positioned his cock in front of Yuuri. Within a few seconds, Viktor spurted hot and sticky cum all over his baby's stomach and legs and wetted his stockings liquid sugar. 

Viktor dipped his glistening fingers, into Yuuri's mouth and waited for him to clean them off. When Yuuri's tongue flicked against the digits, he realized he was wrong. It was better than sugar. 

Panting like a sated dog in the summer, Viktor licked his lips. He saw Yuuri reaching for his clothes, and in haste, grabbed the offending items and threw them out the window. It was childish and dramatic, but Viktor could not waste a second arguing over the matter.

“Viktor, those were my only—!”

“Get out of the car.”

"Huh?"

"I want to show you off," Viktor declared. He was dedicated to the lunacy; elated at the idea of them sauntering into the building, leash in hand. He could show the entire world Yuuri's beauty; let his audience wonder how he wrangled such a delicate creature.

Yuuri had other sentiments. His face whitened with horror. “Viktor…”

“Daddy,” Viktor corrected. He was smiling as he tucked himself in. “You’ll do what daddy says, right? Because you’re a good boy, who doesn’t want to get daddy angry.” Viktor gingerly held his face. An action of clear dissonance to what he was asking. “Am I right, Yuuri?”

Yuuri trembled. His mouth opened and closed, before nodding stiltedly. Obedience, he thought. Viktor didn't take too well to being told no. 

“Yes, daddy.”

***

The elevator was cool while a soft piano heard from the ceiling. Viktor remained fully dressed whereas Yuuri was not as lucky. His only fortune resided in the fact that no one was present when they entered. The doorman smiled, but he did not leer, and the members of the reception were keen to look the other way. Viktor said it was one of the benefits of investing in a plaza. When he implied that he owned the place, Yuuri released a noise of awe. A sentiment further repeated when Georgi put in his key and pressed the button to the penthouse suite. He nodded before taking a step outside, leaving the two of them to each other.

Once they were alone, Yuuri thought he could breathe easy. The worse was over with that perhaps everyone was already at work. A place of extravagance must be the home of several millionaires, each of them hard at work in their grand offices or exemplary firms with tropical fish and marble floors.  His hopes dashed away when the door stopped on level fourteen, and a man dressed in a rather suspicious-looking trench coat appeared. He looked like a flasher that used to walk around Yuuri’s school.

The man paused before stepping into the elevator. Yuuri was too busy looking down, but he swore the mirror reflected the slightest widening in the eyes. There were no other changes in his expression. The man nodded at Viktor.

“Good evening, Mr. Nikiforov.”

Viktor grinned. “Good evening, Mr. Giggles.”

Something told Yuuri that Mr. Giggles was not his real name. In fact, he was pretty sure this man had never smiled in his entire life. Before he could further dwell on the skepticism of the identification, Yuri's thoughts were interrupted when Viktor slipped his hands down and grabbed a handful of his buttocks. Yuuri yelped which was immediately punished by a brutal slap on the ass.

Yuuri rushed to cover his mouth the second time.

Viktor made a moan of approval that was cut short when he bit his lip. “Good boy,” Viktor murmured pleasantly. "But next time, let's not use your hands." Viktor returned his attention to guest while his fingers, long and elegant as Yuuri remembered them, prodded his partner's hole.  Yuuri dropped his arms. He bit his lip the next time. 

“How’s work?” Viktor asked. 

The man pressed the button to level twenty-two. “Same as usual. I heard business has been good with you?”

“Yes,” Viktor agreed. He let out a short laugh as he sunk his first finger into Yuuri while a second followed just as quickly. He was going in dry, but the friction was as lovely as he needed it to be. The tight suction combined with Yuuri’s fleshy bottom was heavenly. Unable to help himself he added in a third finger and Yuuri _just fucking clenched_. 

God that was good, Viktor thought. He smiled at the other man, his teeth bared like a sabretooth.

“Business has been great. I was even able to get myself a nice little bonus before Christmas.”

Viktor’s other digits tingled. He thought about fisting Yuuri. Was that too much without lubrication? Oh, but couldn’t Yuuri handle it? He could take so much, and even if he couldn't, _shouldn’t he at least try?_ Yuuri was doing it for Viktor, after all. 

“He looks delicious,” the man told Viktor impassively. Like he was commenting on an enchilada.

“Doesn’t he, though?” Viktor asked proudly. He pressed forward with renewed passion. The Russian was not disappointed with Yuuri's superb reaction. His body sucked his fingers in like a vacuum, and Viktor could not wait to have that sensation wrapped around his cock. Viktor jammed his fingers in a third time, keeping his fingers steady and together to mimic the look and feel of nice, big cock. He preened at the sight of Yuuri’s swelling hole sucking him in. Viktor’s cock softened from overuse; it was only just beginning to twitch back to life. Yuuri, on the other hand, was ready to burst again.

“His stamina is truly phenomenal,” Viktor thought out loud. With his ring finger listless and waiting, Viktor licked his lips and decided to be bold. He added it along with the trio, now official stretching Yuuri’s sides apart. As predicted, Yuuri’s body shook and spasm. 

Viktor, quick to the draw, grabbed Yuuri’s cock before he could come. His manicured fingers squeezed the tip. Yuuri's choked from the denial, and his lips broke through like the unsettled waves behind a broken dam. The sobbed overrode the soothing piano playing from above. Until all went silent and the music was all they could hear. 

Viktor’s neighbor shook his head. “He could use more training, though.”

The elevator chimed, indicating its settlement onto the twenty-second floor. Before the man walked out, Viktor guaranteed him the best.

“I’ll see to that,” Viktor promised, his eyes brimming at the thought of a satisfying challenge.

The elevator closed on them, and once they were alone. Viktor released his hostage. Yuuri fell to the ground while his cock shot all over the floor and on Viktor’s shoes. The pristine black leather was tainted white by the cum and dripped as the older man looked ahead. Yuuri, catching his breath, burned with humiliation at sight. He looked up, but Viktor remained impassive.

Viktor said nothing until they reached the penthouse suite. Without even glancing at the Japanese boy, he walked next to his ledge. There was a walkway leading to his door.  Yuuri struggled to get to his feet, but as soon as he did so, was immediately put back down.

“I’m disappointed in you,” Viktor sighed. He admired the glisten on his apparel. White and thick and coated like leather protectant. “You’ve made such a mess.” He ignored Yuuri’s distressed look as he looked over the edge. His hands gripped onto the brick of his balcony and admired the cityscape. The air was cool. “There's still so much to teach you.” How to move the way Viktor liked, how to say what he wanted to hear, how to make sure he came when Viktor desired him to—the possibilities were endless. 

Education was so important, Viktor thought giddily. It was the only reason Yuuri was here in his arms instead of some decrepit hot springs in Japan. All Viktor had to do was convince the boy that his time in a desk was better spent on his knees, and all those equations stuffed in his head should be replaced with thoughts of cum. That was the only schooling he needed.

 When Viktor turned around to guide Yuuri on his bed, his path blocked. He felt a weight against his hips. He looked down and saw his feet trapped between a pair of thighs and a pouting smile looking up at him.

“Yuuri—”

“I’m sorry,” Yuuri whispered, an added sultriness to his voice that brought a tingle to Viktor’s spine. Yuuri’s face was flush and his eyes hooded with the same sort of determination Viktor knew to promise great things. He clung onto Viktor’s waist pants. “Let me…” The blush was still there, and if it were for that rosy-cheek stamp, Viktor would have thought he were someone else. “Let me clean it up for you.”

“Wait, I—” Once again, Yuuri left him speechless. The boy dropped to his knees. He moved down close enough to kiss the ground but stopped on Viktor’s shoe. For the first time in the longest time, Viktor was unable to move. He felt like he'd succumbed to a swarm of bees and they were beating him raw with their poison. Everything from his toes to his tongue was numb as he admired the sight in front of him. When he finally regained his senses, it was only to cover his mouth to prevent making a sound. His father used to say that showing distress was a weakness. That his lust would be used to others’ advantages, from honeypots to horrid wives, his father told him that control was the pinnacle of strength. Yet Viktor couldn’t resist the whimper he made when Yuuri pressed his tongue against his shoe; his willpower depleted when their eyes met and instead of stopping, Yuuri continue to run his tongue upward. Viktor bit his lip hard enough to bleed.

A quirked lip tickled the side of Yuuri’s mouth, and more than ever, Viktor saw _it_. It was brief. It was silent. And it would sneak up on Viktor if he were not careful. The exchange of power transferred in that brief second and before Viktor could regain his reigns, Yuuri finished cleaning off the cum and licked his lips. He smiled, out of proud or perhaps success? For winning this battle that was fated to be a fatality? His deceitful ways enraged Viktor and for a flashing moment, the Russian was tempted to grab Yuuri by the shoulders and make it clear who was in charge.

Yuuri returned to his upward position with a satisfied smile. Yuuri, who was sweet and kind and so painfully seductive without trying, did not let his victory go to waste.  The white stockings were stretched from all the moving, and from his position, Viktor could see how his ass was sticking out like a sow ready to be bred. He leaned in to kiss the inside of Viktor’s clothed thighs. The rich fabric of his pants did nothing to deter his mouth and he moved further up until his lips were on top of Viktor’s crotch. Before undoing his buckle, he gazed into Viktor’s eyes and asked, “Can I clean you here?” 

If he was meant to punished, then god strike him down, Viktor recited in his head.

Viktor’s father was right. Everyone had a role, whether it be a leader, a rebel, a laborer, or a slave. Every crime he committed was a test for his victims, and in return, he was a soldier being gifted with the diamonds that could ruin empires. Why else would they give him Yuuri?

Grabbing Yuuri’s arm, he lifted the boy onto his feet. Yuuri stumbled but before he could regain his footing, the Japanese boy was pushed against the ledge. Without his glasses, his vision spun.

“Viktor!” Yuuri begged.

Viktor pressed him against him and covered his mouth. “We’re standing at the top of the world and yet no one can see us. No one would stop us even if they could. This is power is.” Viktor’s finger tugged at the string of pearls nestled inside Yuuri’s ass. He released his cock and pressed it inside. Yuuri was loose from Viktor’s earlier feast and his cock was still a little soft but hard enough to push through. Sometimes, this was Viktor’s favorite thing—having his cock grow inside his lover’s body, feeling them stretch from the inside.

For Yuuri, the cock burned and ached, but it was the type of pain that danced with pleasure along the curve of his spine. Grunts and groans played in the background, beating with the timber of balls slapping against Yuuri’s thighs. Viktor was working his cock in hard, using the friction to thicken his cock.

Yuuri closed his eyes, tears spilling down his cheeks. “Viktor, please! Don’t stick the whole thing inside, it’s too…!” But Viktor fucked into him roughly. He grabbed the back of Yuuri’s hair and forced his eyes onto the ground. 

“Look at them,” Viktor ordered. “It’s almost like they can see you. Good thing I live up here, _nyet_?” Yuuri flushed while Viktor knocked his legs further apart. “Wouldn’t it be embarrassing if someone saw you, my Yuuri? I almost want to take you downstairs. Let all the neighbors see the cock slut on their ledge, offering his hole because he can’t wait to get inside.” Viktor laughed. “Do you like this, Yuuri? Do you like how generously I’m sticking in my cock and filling you with cum? All because you asked for it?” His own sweat was building up on his forehead, but he did not dare to lose control. Instead, he dug his fingers harshly into the hips he pounded into. “Tell me how much you like it.”

Yuuri opened his mouth but the first noises to be released were pants. “I…” Yuuri’s throat was dry as all the drool dripped from his mouth. “I like this…the position feels so good.” 

“Keep going.” Viktor needed to hear more. Listening to Yuuri talk was as addicting as the act itself.

“I like being fucked like this…” Yuuri whimpered. His ass clenched when Viktor reached full hardness and began to attack all his best spots. “Ah! I love how your cock just…fucks me so good.” Yuuri pushed his hips back, feeling it despite the earlier pain. “I like it when I can’t move…how I just take it. Because I’m your whore…your hole. That’s all I’m good for, being yours…oh!”

Viktor pushed all the way against his prostate, shocking Yuuri’s body the slightest. He was in a constant torrent of mixed sensations, and the last one was working him numb.

“Please!” Yuuri begged. “I just want to cum. Please…daddy…”

Oh, what a sweet little sound that word made. Viktor shoved in deep, came with a groan but stayed inside, making sure to fill Yuuri up to the brim with a nice, big creampie that swell his body for days. He loved a nice cum belly; it made his partners looked nice and bred with his babies.

When Viktor retracted from him, he did not get ready right away. Instead, he admired his fine work. A trail of come leaked out of him and Viktor let it drip until he was satisfied by the stained thighs. Yuuri was a mess and Viktor relished in having caused such a scene.

Viktor took the side of Yuuri’s thongs and ripped apart the fabric. He proceeded to grab the now unattached string of pearls and slipped it inside the loosened ass.

Yuuri whimpered. Because of recent use, any discomfort was a result of rawness, not pain. The size was hardly an intrusion after Viktor’s cock. He placed each pearl inside, one by one, for the silk of the ripped panties hanging out the side. Yuuri draped off the ledge, too tired to move.

Viktor needed a rest as well. He looked out into the city and found it more beautiful than ever with its skyscrapers and graffiti walls, smoky skies and polluted streets. It was festering with crime, some perpetrated by Viktor or his friends; others caused by their victims’ own undoing. A land of equal opportunity. His lips touched Yuuri’s shoulder. “Look at this world,” Viktor admired. “Ready for fire like a field for pillaging.” Viktor’s soft lips lifted up and down came his teeth, savage as a wolf. Yuuri let out a mute gasp that eventually settled into a moan.

“It lays underneath me and now, so do you.”  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took way too long for a chapter so short. Nonetheless, I had to post it or else I feared it would never get posted. I'm hoping once I finish Crown the Wolf with Blood and Bronze, this will go more smoothly.  
> As a fun bonus, I made a list of my favorite fluff manga to counteract all the naughtiness. It's called ["10 BL Manga to Purify Your Soul Because We're All Going to Hell"](http://www.aneuroticsguide.com/2018/08/06/10-bl-manga-to-purify-your-soul-because-were-all-going-to-hell/)

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, everyone. Here is my first foray into the Yuri! On Ice universe and my first non-GOT fic on AO3. For anybody who is not familiar with me should be reassured of a few things:
> 
> 1\. I update on a set schedule. This story will be updated every two weeks on a Saturday unless I go on a hiatus, which normally takes about 1-3 months and I do use that time to write more chapters. 
> 
> 2\. My stories range from crack to dark in a single fic. This story will get pretty disturbing but I do write warnings at the beginning of the story. Be wary of the tags. 
> 
> 3\. All the pairings listed will have a sex scene. I normally write one or two chapters in advance. If there is a pairing you like to see more of, tell me and I will try and hustle it in. 
> 
> 4\. I hope you enjoy this story, otherwise. Thank you! Please tell me your thoughts and comments!


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